The 66th Hunger Games
by Gentille Aloutte
Summary: It's the 66th Hunger Games told from the point of view of two tributes from District Five. Who will come out alive? Rated T for the Hunger Games. This is not a SYOT, but please read anyway.
1. Chapter One: Another Year

**Chapter One: Another Year**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hunger Games. The ideas for this story are all from the imagination of Suzanne Collins.

Tremaine Goldstein's POV

I anxiously wait for the train to pull into the station. Tomorrow is the day of the Reaping. If I am going to arrive in District Five on schedule, I should be on the train within the next five minutes. It only takes a day to arrive in the power plant district, but still. I need time to prepare and to go over everything before appearing in front of the Justice Building to reap the tributes.

I find myself tapping my foot impatiently as Leto Guise, the escort for District Six, appears next to me. She smiles, her bright white teeth gleaming. She adjusts her aqua colored wig and asks, "Excited aren't we Tremaine?"

"You don't know the half of it," I say, turning so I can face her. "The train is supposed to _be _here already. Someone will be to blame if I arrive late."

Leto chuckles, "Well I'm sure there will be no need for that. But if I didn't know any better, I'd say your train just pulled into the station." She points behind me and I turn. Sure enough, the silver locomotive marked with a number five was there.

"I think that's my cue then," I grin at her, my best friend in the entire Capitol. She gives me a hug as I start off towards the train. I smooth down my canary colored dress, gripping my suitcase tightly in my right hand. Turning once more before stepping off of the platform and into the train car, I call, "See you in a couple of days!"

xXx

As we pull into the station of District Five, I pace the floor of the dining car, reading over my lines just in case. When the train stops, I stand up straight and adjust my blonde wig. Today I am wearing a red dress with various ornate black spiraling patterns. My heels are black as well and my makeup is made to match every aspect of my outfit. I rush to my room to drop off the cards before stepping out onto the street.

There is one single road that leads from the train station to the center of the district. At the very least, it is paved. There are no sidewalks and in the distance I can see little one-story houses. A small black car is waiting for me. It is the only car in the entire district. The driver is standing outside of the vehicle, holding open the door to the back seat. I march over to him carefully. Who has ever heard of an escort twisting her ankles while walking through the streets of her district? Certainly not me. And I've heard about the conditions of the streets in District Twelve. I duck my head into the car, making sure I do not knock my wig off.

As he drives me down the long road, he does not make any attempt at starting a conversation with me. I do not protest. I need this time to prepare myself for the cameras. A happy, upbeat attitude is not always so easy to project. I run through my lines again. It's not like it is my first time as an escort, in fact this is my sixth year working in District Five. But still, each time I needed to be ready with something new to say. Just to add a little spice into my opening speech.

The car comes to a stop in front of the Justice Building. The driver does not get out, so instead, I push open the door myself. Once I am clearly out of the car, he drives away. As I begin to march up the steps, I see a few people rushing around. Every so often, they peer up to check the time on the Square's clock. One hour until the Reaping was to begin. Everything looks half finished. There are five chairs placed by the door into the building. A woman comes out carrying one of the reaping balls. Behind me, a couple of men are setting up the cameras. It looks like I'm not the only one behind schedule. I pull open the door to the Justice Building and saunter inside with a bright smile on my face.

"Welcome back Tremaine!" a man trills as he walks over to shake my hand.

I smile at him politely, gripping his outstretched hand. "I'm glad to be back for another year Mr. Sagan. Oh this year's games will be wonderful, I just know it."

"Let's just see," the mayor says. Somehow I do not think he is talking to me. Before I think anything else of it, he shakes his head, as if he's coming back from a trance. "Now, now. Please sit," he gestures to the plain white couches behind him. "And if you will excuse me, I have other things I need to tend to." With that, the mayor of District Five exits the room.


	2. Chapter Two: Reaping Day

**Chapter Two: Reaping Day**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hunger Games. The ideas for this story are all from the imagination of Suzanne Collins.

Omar Calhoun's POV

The last bell finally rings, signaling the end of another school year. I stand up and collect my books, throwing them into my backpack. Today is the last day of school. But that's not what makes it so important. Today is also the last day of my schooling, the last day of being a child. I am eighteen, but I don't officially start working in the power plants until Sunday. It's Friday, June 30th. Tomorrow is the first day of July, Reaping Day.

I walk down the hallway, taking one last glance at the building where so much of my life had taken place. I hate it here. I'm glad my childhood is over. Well almost over. I still have to attend my last reaping. But after tomorrow, I'll be an adult. I follow the crowd of children outside the doors of the schoolhouse. Rushing down the steps, I try to avoid any contact with my schoolmates. A crowd of girls cluster to my left near the planters. Around me, small groups of two to three begin to form. All of them undoubtedly chatting about tomorrow's reaping.

"Omar!" somebody shouts. I pretend not to hear them. Chances are it is Aubrey Sagan, the mayor's daughter. Apparently, she has taken it upon herself to try to be my friend. But I don't need friends. I start off down the road. I hear her again, but I refuse to turn around. Does she not understand I like to keep to myself rather than hang around her and her annoying friends? I scoff to myself as I pick up speed.

Eventually, her shouts stop. I turn around and check to see if she was following. No one is there. I slow down into my normal walking speed. My house is just ahead. It's nothing special, just a one-story building with five rooms. I open the door and see my dog bounding towards me. She licks my hand as I reach down to pet her.

"Good girl Callie," I say, stroking her back. After I'm done greeting my dog, I head to the bedroom I share with my older brother, Kano, to drop off my backpack. Right now, he is with my father working the power plants. They do not come home until 5:00, so I should be alone for two hours. Since I can remember, it's always been the three of us. My father tells me when I was two, my mother died of some disease. Kano remembers her, but he never talks about her. He was seven when she died. There are a couple of pictures of her left, but they are only in my father's bedroom. He keeps the door locked most of the time. Sometimes when he had forgotten to lock it, I'd creep into the room to remind myself of what she looked like. Most of the time, her image slips from my memory and all I see is a vague outline of what I believe she looked like.

I hear Callie start to whimper, telling me she needs to use the bathroom. I walk over to the backdoor and open it. She bolts out the door and I laugh.

* * *

Linnet Easton's POV

"Omar!" my friend, Aubrey Sagan shouts. She tries to get his attention again, but he does not seem to hear her.

"Why do you even bother?" I ask her, folding my arms across my chest. "He clearly doesn't want to be friends with you, Aubrey."

My blonde friend looks at me and sighs, "You wouldn't understand, Linnet." She brushes her hair out of her face and stares off after the boy.

I did understand. She was in love with him. I do not remember the exact moment when she realized it, but somewhere during the middle of this past year, she became determined in trying to befriend him. But, he never wanted her attention. In fact, it seemed like he didn't want _anyone's_ attention. I could not relate to him. I needed the security of having people around me. I look at Aubrey, knowing she would not give up on him. She didn't give up on me, despite the rest of her friends' opinions. When I first met Aubrey, we were both in the same math class, although she is two grade levels above me. At first, I thought she only wanted to talk to me because I was smart. But, soon I realized her intentions were genuine. We've been friends ever since. Eventually, the other girls accepted my presence within their group, despite our age differences. After all, a fifteen year old hanging around a bunch of eighteen year olds was perfectly normal.

"Linnet?" Aubrey says, taking me back into reality.

"Yes?" I answer her. "What? What is it?"

She laughs and then asks, "Are you going to stand there for the rest of the day or are you going to head home?"

I look around. Everyone is gone. It's just the two of us left on the school grounds. Leave it to Aubrey to make sure everyone got home before she did. Shaking my head, I say, "Uh yeah. Let's go." We do not live in the same house, but I've had her take me home many times before, I know she will not leave before I walk through my front door.

Together, we head down the street, chatting about the upcoming summer. She tells me how excited she is to finally be done with school. At this my mood drops. She notices it and reassures me there will be plenty of other people in school I could make friends with. The truth is, not a lot of people like me in my grade. The reason, I'm too smart for my own good. They don't like me because I come off as a know-it-all. I'm surprised Aubrey and her friends even tolerate me. We come to a stop in front of my house. I wave goodbye to her as I start walking up the steps to my front door.

"Good luck at the Reaping," I hear her say behind me.

I turn to face her, "You too."

xXx

In the morning when I awake, a sense of dread rushes through my body. It's still dark out and I try to go back to sleep, but I end up lying in my bed, eyes wide open. I throw the covers off of my body and stare up at the ceiling of my room. In a couple of hours, the Reaping will begin. I might as well try to get some sleep, but it does not happen. Instead, I climb out of my bed and feel around in the dark for the lamp. I turn it on and find the clothes I am to wear for the Reaping set out over the footboard of my bed. It is a simple pink dress, but the dye is clearly fading. On the floor is a white pair of shoes. I collect the outfit in one hand and with my other I pull open my bedroom door, careful not to wake my family. I creep down the hallway to the bathroom, where I set down the clothes and turn on the bathtub. I close the door and remove my sleepwear. I step into the bath slowly, testing out the water first. It's lukewarm, but I don't expect anything better. I grab the bar of soap and begin scrubbing down my body. After, I rinse the soap off. Then, I take the shampoo into my hand and massage it into my hair. I let it stay in for a minute before dunking my head into the water. I repeat this for a couple of more times until all of the shampoo is gone. Slowly, I rise out of the bathtub. I wrap my hand around a towel and bring it to my face, wiping off the water dripping from it.

When I am done drying and dressing, I brush my hair. I see a white ribbon left on the counter, probably from my mother, and tie it into my hair. Looking into the mirror, I decide I look presentable. Without another thought, I open the bathroom door and step into the hallway where my seven year old sister is waiting with my mother.

"Good morning Linnet," my mother says.

"Good morning mom," I say back to her. I smile at my little sister. "Good morning Amber."

She grins at me, "You look pretty today Linnet." She starts giggling as my mother guides her into the bathroom.

As she's about to close the door, she tells me, "You really do look pretty today."

I smile. They always tell me that every year before the Reaping. I walk down the hallway to the kitchen where my father is eating some fresh bread. He offers me a piece and I take it, sitting down beside him at the dining table.

"You ready for today sweetheart?" he asks me, spreading butter over another slice.

"As ready as I'll ever be," I reply. I look at him. He takes a bite out of the bread and a few crumbs fall into his lap. He takes no regard to it. Today, he was wearing his best clothes. It is expected of everyone to look their best on the day of the Reaping. His dark brown hair is comb back in a neat style.

"That's good," he says between bites.

I pick apart a small piece of my slice and place it into my mouth. We eat in silence until Amber and my mother enter the room. They take their seats at the table. Nobody says anything. It's always like this on the Reaping Day. My family and about everyone else's in District Five treat the first of July like somebody's funeral. Most of the time it is. The only exceptions happened four times.

"If you're not going to eat that bread, can your sister have it?" my mother asks me.

I realize I've been staring off into space, picking at my food. "Sure," I hand the slice to Amber and she swallows it instantly. I smirk at her when a few crumbs fall into her red curls. My mother sighs as she reaches across the table, trying to clean my sister's hair.

* * *

Tremaine Goldstein's POV

"And in the period of those sixty-five years, District Five produced four victors. Brites Messier, Allura Luce, Leon Hubble and Saffron Kepler," the mayor announces into the microphone. In response, the crowd erupts in applause. He forces a smile onto his face for the cameras pointed at his face and continues, "Now, let's give a warm welcome to our Capitol escort, Tremaine Goldstein."

I stand up from my chair, smoothing out my dress. I march over to the microphone, a wide smile on my face. I resist the urge to clear my throat, something deemed rude and inappropriate in the Capitol, and begin, "Good afternoon District Five. I'd like to say it is an honor to be here. I am sure all of you are as happy as I am about this year's Hunger Games. But, before any of you get too excited, I would like to proceed with picking our courageous young male and female tribute." Without another hesitation, I cross over to the glass ball filled with the female names. "As always, ladies first." I reach my hand into the ball and feel around until my hand curls over a single slip. Pulling it out, I read it aloud, "Linnet Easton!"

At first, nobody moves. Then, a couple of girls move around to glance at a small figure with light brown hair and wide eyes. She slowly begins to walk towards the stage. As she's about to reach the steps, a blonde girl rushes up to her wailing.

"Linnet! Linnet, please don't go!" The blonde girl makes the mistake of grabbing the other one's arm. In an instant, the Peacekeepers throw her to the ground. She does not get back up. Her head must've hit something.

Linnet Easton takes her place beside me. I smile at her. For a moment, I would've thought the blonde girl was going to volunteer.

"Aubrey!" the mayor gasps. He's out of his seat, trying to see if the girl called Aubrey was alright.

A Peacekeeper stops him from dashing offstage, "Don't worry Mr. Sagan. Your daughter will be fine." The two who had thrown her to the ground pick her up and carry her unconscious body away. Next to me, Linnet is crying in silence.

"Moving on," I say, trying desperately to pull the crowd's attention off of the previous commotion. I head over to the glass filled with the male names. "It's time for the boys." I reach inside the ball, plucking up the first one my fingers touch. Smiling, I look out into the sea of boys as I unravel the slip. "Omar Calhoun!"

**Author's Notes:** I know it's boring and you all are just waiting for the Games, but bear with me. Eventually, I'll get there. I'm sure no one is reading this, but whatever. Next chapter to come. Please review and favorite. :D


	3. Chapter Three: To the Capitol

**Chapter Three: To the Capitol**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hunger Games. The ideas for this story are all from the imagination of Suzanne Collins.

**Author's Notes:** Okay, now the POVs are going to stay between the tributes. Uh… please favorite and review. I'd like to see what you all think. Next chapter to come. :D

Omar Calhoun's POV

I watch as the Peacekeepers drag Aubrey Sagan's unconscious body away. On the stage, her father, the mayor, is calling her name. Beside him, the Capitol escort, Tremaine Goldstein, is doing everything she can to pull everyone's attention back on her. She strides over to the Reaping Ball filled with the boy's names. Her long, artificial black nails pluck up a single slip. After slowly unraveling it, she announces, "Omar Calhoun!"

At first, it takes me a while to register what had just happened. But, a couple of heartbeats later, realization washes over me like a colossal tidal wave. The other boys in the eighteen section move aside to make room for me. Some are giving me sideway glances. I swallow and slowly make my way to the stage. I take my place on the other side of Tremaine and force a toothy smile onto my face for the cameras. At this point, the mayor begins to read the Treaty of Treason. After listening to it every year for the past seventeen years, I come to find the eighteenth time has a different effect. Read after the Reaping, the only thing that had been on my mind was relief. The thought of being spared for another year was overwhelming. I would always try to pay attention to Mayor Sagan, but to no prevail. This time around, I listen to every single word. This may be the last time I will ever hear him. The last time I may ever take a good look at District Five.

The mayor finishes his speech and tells Linnet Easton and me to shake hands. I peer at her face. The tears are still falling from her brown eyes. I grip her hand and notice she's trembling. I look down at our hands. It's not Linnet however. It's me. I feel my teeth begin to chatter. I drop her hand and we turn to face the crowd one last time as the National Anthem blares over the speakers around the Square. As soon as it is over, the Peacekeepers surround us and escort us through the front door of the Justice Building. As they push us through the doors, I see three people stand up from the chairs left out for the victors. I have never seen them up close like this before. Usually, I'd encounter them around the marketplace on a regular day. I have never said one word to them. But, yet I know way more about them than they know about me. That's the thing when you become a victor. The transition made only when you are left standing alone in the arena, the body of the last tribute somewhere at your feet. The Capitol basically flaunts you around for a few days before sending you back to your district. In that time, the media is all about your business, good or bad. Then, six months later, they revisit you on your Victory Tour.

Anyway, the remaining victors in our district are Allura Luce, the winner of the 21st Hunger Games, Leon Hubble, the winner of the 53rd Hunger Games, and Saffron Kepler, the winner of the 57th Hunger Games. About nine years ago, the year Saffron won, Brites Messier, the winner of the 8th Games and District Five's first victor, died at the age of 65 from liver failure. Now, we are left with three possible mentors. Leon is by far the best in my opinion. When he won his Games, he slaughtered everyone at the very end. Well, that's what I've heard. I remember seeing his Games, but I was too young to have registered what happened. But now, I know. And now I want him as a mentor.

"Who's going this year?" I hear him ask the two women at his side.

The woman in her mid-twenties, Saffron, speaks up, "Allura." She looks at the elderly victor. "Please stay this year. Don't go back. Stay with your children and your grandchildren to celebrate. Celebrate because none of them are eligible for the Games."

I do not hear the old woman's reply, for the Peacekeepers have closed the doors to the Justice Building and are now leading Linnet and me to separate rooms for our final goodbyes.

As soon as I enter the room, they close the doors. I am left standing alone, waiting for my family to come. I take a seat on one of the leather couches. I stare at the door with a blank expression on my face. Then, it opens and I see my brother, Kano, and my father entering the room. The door closes behind them and we are left in each other's presence.

Kano is the first to speak, "I'm so sorry Omar." His face is utter depression. He runs his hand through his black hair. "If only. If only."

My father sits down beside me. "You were so close," he whispers. I peer at his face and see the tears begin to form. I've never seen him cry before. My father, a grown man, crying at the fact that his son may not come home. My eyes begin to water as well, but I wipe them away. I will stay strong.

Kano kneels in front of us. "I can't believe this happened. We… we had everything planned for you. I'd just convinced the boss to have you work with me. You were going… you were going to help me out and I was going to show you the ropes. It was going to be so much fun…" his tone is one of despair. He spoke to me like I was already dead.

I place my hand on his shoulder, "It doesn't matter now. I'm… I'm going to try. You know. Try to win this. I've got a shot. I'll learn everything during the training. I'll learn to use a sword and how to light a fire and how to hunt. It'll be… fine." But I'm not convinced.

My father holds my face in his rough hands. "Of course you'll try. But success? That'll be the part to send you home… alive."

Suddenly, the door opens and the Peacekeepers are standing there, waiting for my family to leave. We gather into a hug and by now the tears are rolling down off of my father's face onto my head, but I do not care. Kano is in tears as well, but somehow, I manage not to cry. They tell me they love me as they exit the room and I tell them I love them too. And Callie too. I tell them I love her. I tell them to look after her. And when the door closes, I slump back onto the couch, my head in my hands. I do not expect anyone else to come. I have no friends. But, in the back of my mind, I want the door to open again. I tell myself she will come, although we've never talked. But for some strange reason, she cared for me. I wait and wait and wait, willing the door to swing open, revealing her to me, but it never does. And a part of me grows depressed.

* * *

Linnet Easton's POV

I pace the room in silence, deep in thought. As I wait for my family to say their goodbyes, the gears in my head begin to turn rapidly. My first thought, I had been reaped. But, I had not been thinking when it happened. I had been taken by surprise. So, I cried. I cried in front of the cameras, in front of the whole country. Now I will be perceived as weak. My opponents will find me as an easy kill and go for me first. I try to hold back my tears, but I end up letting them fall. If I'm going to cry, I might as well do it now rather than later. My second thought, I had been reaped with Omar Calhoun, the brown eyed boy with the shaggy black hair Aubrey Sagan was in love with. I look around the room and decide to take a seat on one of the leather couches. I cross my legs as another thought crosses my mind: I may be dead within the next month. My back straightens as I try to forcefully swallow that thought.

Suddenly, the door opens, and my family rushes into the room. My little sister runs over to me in tears, "Please Linnet. Don't go. Stay. Please stay. You can't go. You can't."

I pat her hair, trying to comfort her, "Amber, you know the rules. I have to go. If I don't… I… I don't know what'll happen. But, it'll be bad. You understand that right?"

She blinks and teardrops run down from her big brown eyes. Beside her, my mother is waiting. She sits down next to me and engulfs me in a hug. Her sobs are muffled. I try to comfort her as well, but to no prevail. She pulls away and looks at my face. I peer back, noticing the similarities she and Amber both share. Both of them have curly red hair and warm brown eyes. But today, my mother has her hair pulled back in a neat bun.

My father settles down on the other side of me and kisses my forehead. I do not have to look at him to know he is not crying. He wouldn't. He brushes back my light brown hair and tells me not to be afraid. I only nod in reply. He holds me in his arms. A couple of seconds later, I feel my mother join in. And then finally, Amber's arm wrap around me. We sit like this for a while, not saying a word because there really is nothing to say. They understand the situation. They know I may not be coming home. And in the back of my mind I know this will be the last time I will ever see them. The doors opens and the Peacekeepers are waiting for them to leave. We say our goodbyes and they tell me they love me and I barely whisper back an 'I love you too.'

After a couple of minutes, my next visitor arrives. It's Aubrey. Immediately, she hugs me. As soon as she pulls away, she says to me, "I'm so sorry. I… I should have volunteered. I was going to. I… I was going to volunteer. You know that? I just couldn't…" she trails off.

"I know. But it doesn't matter. The past is in the past. Now it's time to look to the future," I say, trying to sound strong. I shake my head. "I can't believe it. I'm going to…"

"Don't say that," she scolds me. "You've got to try. Everyone and I mean _everyone_ has a shot. You can't give up on yourself. It doesn't matter if the wealthier districts have more experience than you. You've got a chance." She sighs, wiping the tears from her face. "Do you remember nine years ago? When Saffron Kepler won?"

Of course she did. She had been nine. But me, I had been six. Yet, somehow I knew what she was talking about. The visions of Saffron's Games flash through my mind. "Yeah," I say.

"Everyone thought she was going to die. But she _survived_. Remember? She got to the end by killing only _one _person. Just _one._ The Hunger Games aren't just about who can kill the most people. It's also about who can last the longest. Who can hold out until everyone else can't," she places her hand over mine. And then she adds, "Please tell Omar that…"

"I know," I say. "Did you say goodbye to him?"

She shakes her head. "I couldn't. What was I going to say to him?"

"You're right. Well then I'll tell him," I reassure her. Then, a sad thought passes through my mind, "What about you? Will you be alright? You know… only one person comes back… alive…"

She bites her bottom lip, "I'm trying not to think about that right now. But when the time comes…"

Just then, the Peacekeepers open the door, signaling the end of Aubrey's time with me. She heads out the door, reluctant to go. After her, no one else comes to visit me.

xXx

Inside the small black car, I sit in the backseat, close to the window. On the other side of me is Tremaine Goldstein, her red dress forcing me to squish closer to the door. On the other side of her is my district partner. He is gazing out the window. Probably taking in what might be his last look at District Five. I turn to look out the window too. In the distance, the power plants seem to shrink as we get closer to the train station. It is silent in the car, except for the constant hum of the engine. Soon, we come to a complete stop. We all get out of the car only to be welcomed with more cameras pointed at our faces, probably to record any traces of emotion left from our goodbyes. Tremaine tells us to ignore them and their questions as we surge forward. She leads the way for us as we approach the train. The cameramen and a few reporters start to shuffle around, trying anything to get a better view.

The doors open and we make our way inside. As soon as the doors shut, the train begins to move. The motion takes me by surprise, although I had expected it. But yet, I have to grab onto the walls to keep myself in balance. Tremaine laughs at me like I was some kind of dog of hers, running around and bumping into things. I compose myself with whatever respect I had left and glare at her. She ignores my look and walks down the hallway, the doors sliding open, revealing the dining car. Omar follows her, as he has no idea where else to go. Shamefully, I follow too.

By now, it's about dinnertime. Since District Five is rather close to the Capitol, it does not take long to get there, so our Reaping time is later than most districts'. As I enter the dining car, I notice all of the luxuries most dining rooms back home wouldn't even think to have. The walls are painted a pastel blue and the floor is made of some kind of wood. The table looks expensive, for the majority of it is made of glass. On top of it are many various dishes filled with exotic looking food. The plates look so fragile that a sudden bump would send them crashing to the ground.

By now, Tremaine is seated at the table. Beside her is a tall middle aged man with scraggly dark hair. Next to him is a woman with medium length straight hair. I recognize them instantly. The man is Leon Hubble and the woman is Saffron Kepler. They are our mentors. Omar and I sit down on the other side of the table, facing them.

Saffron gives us a warm smile, "Hello. I am, along with Leon," she gestures to the tall man beside her, "are going to be your mentors this year. Of course you can only be mentored separately. But, alas! It'll be perfectly fine. Now, which one of you would like me to help you on your journey?"

Omar and I look at each other, but we do not say a word. I want Saffron to be my personal mentor, but I do not want to seem desperate. I study his facial expression. He's clearly telling me to go for it. I ponder over the possible consequences. He wants me to pick Saffron so he can have Leon. The reasons spiral around in my head. One sticks out in my mind: his strategy. Of course he wants Leon. He expects to learn all about Leon's strategy. How he literally slaughtered the rest of the tributes, including the remaining Careers at the end to win. But for me, I figure that Saffron would be the better choice. Like Aubrey had told me, it's not just about your kill count. It's also about survival.

Settling on my final decision, I turn to my mentor, "I'll be glad to accept your help."

Leon huffs, "I guess that means you are my guy." He reaches over the table to pat Omar on the shoulder.

Then, we start to eat. Most of the food is completely foreign to me. I glance over at Omar. Sure enough, he was a little hesitant to the dishes as well. But in the end, both of us sucked it up and tried whatever looked good. Everything is extremely delicious. I manage to eat two servings of a tasty carrot stew, occasionally breaking off pieces of bread to dip into the broth. After, I try out the pork. My mouth fills with water as I take a bite. My taste buds become overwhelmed, but I manage to keep feasting. There is so much more food I bring myself to try. Various fruits with exotic names and lavish creams so rich in texture sit on my plate. Eventually, a server brings out the desserts. Instantly, I go for what looks like a chocolate cake. I once have had cake before. On the day after my first Reaping, my parents bought the cake to celebrate my first year of being spared. Every year after that, they'd buy some kind of special delicacy from the baker. A plate of chocolate chip cookies one year. And a box full of jelly filled pastries the year after that. But this chocolate cake is sweet. So sweet, that I cannot finish it, although my stomach tells me I can. I sit back in my chair, sipping the ice cold lemonade from my glass cup. I feel satisfied. The meal was the best meal I've ever had. I never once had my stomach completely full. It's not like my family is poor, but I would have never considered ourselves as rich. My father was the breadwinner of the family. His job as a power plant worker was quite rewarding. And my mother is a teacher in one of the primary grades. The thing about District Five is that it actually is a well off district. Barely any of the citizens are poor. We thank the Capitol for that. Our district is considered as one of the "urban" districts. A wealthier place to live, but not quite.

Tremaine stands up from her seat, "Oh you all better finish up. They are showing the rest of the reapings right about now." She takes her glass of champagne and tiptoes over to the adjacent train car. Saffron, Leon, Omar and I follow behind her. I want to see this. I need to see who my competitors are.

The television is on. They are just now showing District One. A blonde girl with piercing blue eyes (Pearl as I later find out) is reaped. To my surprise, no one volunteers. Next, her district partner is reaped, but a boy steps up to volunteer in his place. In District Two, they have two volunteers like usual. In District Three, I notice a small girl named Telsa mount the stage. In District Four, two seventeen year olds volunteer. Then it's us. I see myself walking up to meet Tremaine. And then there's Aubrey. She grabs my arm, causing the Peacekeepers to toss her down like a rag doll. They drag her away and then Omar's called. By now, I'm bawling. Omar shakes my hand and they move onto District Six. I do not really pay attention to the rest of the reapings. But a couple of people stick out in my mind like the male tribute from Six, the female from Seven, and the boy from Twelve. As I stare at the screen, I try to picture each and every one of their deaths.

* * *

Omar Calhoun's POV

The rest of the reapings are nothing special. Same old volunteers from the Career districts, with the exception of that blonde girl, Pearl or whatever.

When the program ends, Leon scoffs and says to Saffron, "Ah poor Clay. He's going to have to mentor his daughter."

"Oh I know. How old is she?" Saffron asks.

"I believe she's fourteen," answers Leon.

"Ah," she frowns and shakes her head. "I bet she'll get a bunch of sponsors though. The Capitol will eat up the fact that her dad is a victor." Then, in Capitol accent she adds, "Oh that poor girl! Oh and her poor father! We _must _do whatever we need to do to reunite them! We _must!_" She chuckles to herself.

Tremaine purses her lips together, but does not say anything. Instead, she simply leaves the room, mumbling some kind of excuse for her departure.

"Who are you talking about?" I ask them.

"You saw that girl from District One?" it was a rhetorical question. Leon continues, "You know. Pearl. Her father is Clay Vuitton, the victor of the 51st Hunger Games."

"Oh," is all I say. I've never heard of him. So I ask, "What'd he do to win?"

Behind me, I hear Linnet stifle a laugh. I turn to face her, but as soon as I do, she looks up at me like nothing was wrong.

Leon grins at our little ordeal, "It doesn't matter." He drums his fingernails on the side of his coffee mug, "You two should get some sleep. Big day tomorrow. Don't want to look tired for the cameras now do you?"

Saffron scratches her head, "Wouldn't they just cover up their under eye bags with makeup?"

Leon raises his mug in her direction, "That's very true." He takes a sip, suppressing a laugh.

She turns to us, "But you two should go to bed. Even if you won't _look_ tired, no amount of makeup can cover up the fact that you _feel _tired."

"Well then, goodnight," I tell them.


	4. Chapter Four: The Opening Ceremonies

**Chapter Four: The Opening Ceremonies**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hunger Games. The ideas for this story are all from the imagination of Suzanne Collins.

Linnet Easton's POV

I wake up abruptly, a thin layer of sweat dotting my forehead. I wipe the perspiration off with the back of my hand and sit up, throwing the cotton sheets off of my body. It's completely dark in my compartment. I stare into the darkness at what I perceive to be the door. It's too quiet. I wait and listen. What's missing? Something's missing? Then it hits me. We are not moving. The train has stopped. I have half a mind to go to the window to see what's wrong, but think better of it. We're probably stopping to refuel. I settle back down in my bed and close my eyes. But, instantly my mind wanders back to home. My family would be no doubt sleeping. What happened after I left District Five? Did they go back home? Did my parents take Amber to the baker's to buy some kind of treat? What about Aubrey? I realize I never got to ask if she was alright. After seeing her hit the ground for the second time, I remembered. During her time with me, it never crossed my mind to ask. She didn't let on that she was in pain. But of course she didn't. She puts everyone above herself. Always.

I open my eyes again and reach over for my glass of water. As I bring it to my lips, I stop and frown. I peer into the glass. There's nothing but a few drops of water left at the bottom and I know that will not suffice to quench my thirst. I climb out of bed and find my way to the door. As I turn the doorknob, I try to take regard to the people around me who should be asleep. I step out into the long, dark corridor and slowly make my way to the dining car, careful not to make any noises as I step on the floorboards.

The closer I get to the door, the surer I am that two people are up awake and having a conversation. I enter the dining car, the automatic doors sliding open for me. I find a pitcher of water and pour some of it into my cup. And then my ears perk up. Somebody, whoever it was, just said my name. I put down the water pitcher and listen. There's some muffled speaking coming from the car adjacent to this one. I creep towards the door and look through the windows. Inside the compartment Omar, our mentors and I had been early this evening viewing the recap of the reapings, are Saffron Kepler and Leon Hubble. Both of them are sitting on the couch, watching intently as a boy on the television screen receives a trident. Immediately, I realize what they are watching: last year's Hunger Games. The boy on the screen is Finnick Odair, the victor from District Four.

I just only catch what Saffron says, "What about Omar?"

I see Leon look at her, his eyebrows raised, "What do think?" She does not respond, so he continues, "I'll tell you something, sweetheart. He's a fighter. But does he really have the abilities to win? I don't know."

Saffron looks down and sighs, "So what you're saying is that you do not think District Five can win this year?"

I narrow my eyes at Leon. His facial expression remains emotionless as he says, "You heard what I said about Pearl Vuitton. It's not enough District One is one of the Capitol's favorites, but to have the daughter of one of the previous victors as a tribute? We might as well hand her over the crown. There's no way anybody will sponsor them."

I know deep down in my heart that he is right. But that definitely does not mean Pearl Vuitton will win. She has to earn her spot as a victor. I decide that I will kill her. I don't want this girl, no matter if she is a Career or not, dictating my fate just because of her father.

Saffron runs her hand through her hair, "I suppose you're right. But I don't want to just abandon them."

"You need to realize you can't just grow attached to every tribute. I know this is your third year as a mentor, but still. It'll make things harder when they…die," he grabs her chin and tilts it up to his face. And then he kisses her. My eyes bug and I step backwards. I wasn't supposed to see that. I clutch the glass to my chest and leave the dining car in silence.

* * *

Omar Calhoun's POV

"Wake up! Wake up!" Tremaine Goldstein calls as she knocks on the door to my compartment. "We'll be arriving in the Capitol in fifteen minutes!" I hear the irritation in her voice and think better than to disobey her. I crawl out of bed and slump over to the dresser. As I search through the drawers for something normal to wear, her annoying Capitol accent is ringing through my mind: _we'll be arriving in the Capitol in fifteen minutes!_ And then I stop. Fifteen minutes to the Capitol! We're late! I dig up a pair of denim pants and a dark green plain shirt, throwing them on in haste. I find the black shoes I had worn yesterday at the Reaping and shove them on. After, I pull open the door and make my way down the hallway. I enter the dining car and see that I am the last person to arrive. Everyone was already there waiting for me. Leon, Saffron and Tremaine are sitting at the table eating breakfast and drinking coffee. I spot Linnet by the window, drinking orange juice. I cross over to the table and sit beside Leon.

Tremaine sips her cup of coffee and says, "I'm _terribly_ sorry. I believe I overslept this morning. Next time, I'll be sure to wake up _extra_ early to keep you all on schedule."

Saffron smiles at the Capitol escort, "It's fine Tremaine. You don't have to blame yourself. If anything, we all had something to do with it."

At that, we eat the rest of our breakfast in silence. Eventually, Linnet comes to the table to join us. I grab a few sausage links and scoff them down. It's all I really can bring myself to eat. I don't know why, but my appetite isn't as big as it was last night.

Suddenly, the train goes dark. I look to the windows, understanding we've just passed through a tunnel. The odd feeling in my stomach increases. Tremaine stands up and smiles, "We're here."

Linnet and I both rush over to the windows as the train moves out of the tunnel, revealing the big and bright city. Large buildings loom in the distance and seem to touch the sky. Cars drive by on the paved streets. Pedestrians point at our train car as we pull into the station. And suddenly I feel self-conscious. I'd always laugh at the ridiculousness of the Capitol's silly fashions with Kano, but now I find myself completely underdressed so to speak. The bright colors and loud choices blind my eyes. Feathers and sequins and fur and heels and wigs plague my vision. I look over at Linnet, her eyes are wide open and her eyebrows are raised.

Behind us, I hear Tremaine clap her hands in excitement, "Oh this is spectacular! You two are going to _love_ it here. Even if it's just for a little while." I turn to face her. She pouts, "Oh I know what you're thinking. _So_ much _better_ than District Five."

I look back at the window, rolling my eyes. She's so ignorant. But ignorance is bliss, so I don't say anything to her.

The train comes to a complete stop and my mentor stands up. He grins at us, "Time to meet your people."

The five of us exit the train only to be overwhelmed by a massive crowd. The Capitol citizens are cheering and clapping and in some cases, calling our names. I smirk, letting it all soak in. A few reach out to touch me. I don't shrug them off. Some of them might be sponsors. I need to come off as friendly. Then, Tremaine leads us forward to the Remake Center, but Leon and Saffron separate from our little group and I do not see them until later that night.

xXx

I think my prep team might have introduced themselves to me, but I didn't bother to listen. I really do not care what their names are. I try not to squirm when they pull the wax strips off of my legs, but I can't help it, so I wince. They does this to my entire body until I'm left naked and hairless. One of the women goes to work on my hair while the other one works on my nails. I try to ignore their complaints, but it's the only thing I can focus on to take my mind off the raw and bare feeling left all over my body. The man disappears into an adjacent room, probably to fetch more devices to torture me with.

The sound of snipping fills my ears and I realize that she's cutting my hair. I could really care less. They could do whatever they want to me, as long as I don't end up looking girly. I need to emit the effect that I am fearless. That I am not afraid to kill. The man returns with a bottle of lotion in his hand. He pours a large amount into his hands and begins to rub me down, handing the bottle to the woman who had been cutting my hair. She sets down the scissors and does the same thing. The two of them rub the vanilla scented lotion all over my body and I feel nothing but uncomfortable. It's even more uncomfortable than when they had bathed me two hours earlier. After they are finished, my prep team stands me up to inspect me. They circle me with tweezers in their hands, stopping to pluck any bit of hair they spot. Once they are finished, they leave the room and do not come back. Instead, a young woman with bright orange hair set in an intricate up do enters the room. Her extremely long eyelashes flutter as she looks me over.

Finally, she speaks, "Hello Omar. My name is Despina and I will be your stylist." She extends her delicate hand out to me. I take it, trying to ignore her crazy, long manicured nails. She continues, "Now if you'll follow me, I'd like to tell you about what you'll be wearing to the opening ceremonies." She picks up the robe off of the ground on her way to the door, smiling at me. I feel my face grow warm. I don't know why. I follow her out the room, silently scolding myself.

As we enter the next room, she hands me the robe. She crosses the room and sits down on one of the couches. She beams at me as I put the robe over my naked body. I sit across from her on the couch opposite.

"So," she begins. "What comes to your mind when you hear the word 'power'?"

"Uh. I don't know. Electricity maybe," I reply. Her question was a little odd, but I guess I'd understand later.

"Electricity yes," Despina agrees. A car honks outside the window and she turns her head to glance at it. I can't help but stare. She's absolutely breathtaking. I don't know how much surgery she had done, but I couldn't care less. Her facial construction was perfect. From her high cheek bones to her delicate lips. I shake my head, what am I doing?

Despina turns back to face me, "But how can we put that on _display?_ How can we show Panem that, 'hey this is District Five and we represent power'?"

* * *

Linnet Easton's POV

I march over to my chariot, careful not to mess up my costume. My stylist, Rigel, put me in one of the most ridiculous outfits I've ever seen. I'm wearing a blue corset, held together with wires rather than lace. I'm not even wearing pants. Instead, I wear grey underwear. Sewn to the underwear are electrical coils arranged in a way that it looks like a hula skirt. There are two loose cords hanging from the back of the underwear all the way to the floor, so I'm basically dragging them. On my feet are dark yellow heels. My hair is done in two separate braids. Rigel had my prep team paint my eyelids with a type of yellow make up to supposedly match my shoes. The rest of my face is covered in layers of foundation and concealer.

As I walk past the other chariots, I notice all of the other tributes in their costumes. Some are equally as ridiculous as mine. The tributes from Twelve are naked and covered in coal. The tributes from Seven are dressed to resemble trees.

Up ahead, I spot my chariot. It is spray painted grey this year. The horses are snow white. Omar is already there with his stylist, as well as our mentors and Tremaine. Rigel and I are the only ones missing. I head over to them and force I smile onto my lips.

I notice Saffron and Leon are standing next to each other. After I had bolted last night, I refused to come in direct contact with the two of them. I don't even know if what I saw was real. I mean so what if they are romantically involved or not. It's really not my business. But what am I supposed to do now? Pretend like I didn't see the kiss?

They all are now looking at me, examining my costume nonetheless. To my right is Omar, dressed in a similar fashion. But instead of a corset, underwear and heels, he wears a plain white vest and a blue bowtie. His pants are grey and end at his knees. His shoes are grey as well. Decorating his vest are wires placed in a similar style to the ones around my corset. Electrical cords sprout out of his pants and his hair is combed over to one side.

"Linnet darling," Tremaine exclaims. "You look _ravishing!_ A showstopper for sure."

"Oh dear…." Saffron says.

"You two look great," Leon grins. I can tell he is being nothing but sarcastic. I sigh, but refuse to say anything about the costume until later. I still have to wear it, so I might as well not badmouth it. Rigel appears next to me with his hands at his chest as if he were proud of his work.

"Despina," he addresses the woman with the bright orange hair standing next to Omar. "They look wonderful. You're idea this year was _brilliant._"

Despina smiles at him, placing a hand on her hip, "Didn't I tell you? I just _knew_ you'd love it."

Rigel runs his hands through his dark blue hair. "Well I had been wrong to doubt you. But, _seriously_, I am _so_ proud of you."

I stare at my stylist. I still can't get over the fact that he is wearing makeup. His lips are adorned with a shade of purple. He does not wear eye shadow, but he does have on dark blue eyeliner. He's a little hard to look at. His skin is dyed light green and he has a long purple tattoo that runs down his left arm. I think the design is suppose to represent an animal, but I can't tell which one. I know I have never seen it before. When he had been doing my measurements for the costume, he had caught me staring at it. I now remember what he told me it was. A dragon?

A voice comes over the intercom, echoing throughout the bottom of the Remake Center. It tells us to get into positions, for the doors were to open in less than a minute. Leon, Saffron and Tremaine leave, wishing us good luck. Rigel and Despina help us into the chariot and hurry up to catch up to them.

Then, the doors open and the sound of cheering fill my ears. The opening music blasts throughout the room and District One starts moving forward. I don't have to see them to know their costumes are beautiful. They always are.

Up ahead, District Two follows behind, dressed like warriors ready for battle. Then, District Three and Four. Finally, it's our turn. The horses pull us forward and instantly I am stunned. During the day, the Capitol looked amazing. But now that I see how beautifully the city is with all of its many lights, I can't help but stare. Around us, the citizens are cheering. I doubt they are directed at us. But I smile regardless. Omar and I start waving, doing our best to seem appealing. I catch our image on one of the large screens and my eyebrows rise. We actually look good. Not as bad as I thought. But I know we will not be memorable. That'll be District One. I look to the next screen, spotting them. This year they are dressed like golden Greek gods. Pearl is smiling and laughing.

Omar nudges me with his elbow, "What are you doing? You're dirty looks are not helping our cause."

My eyebrows knit, "What are you talking about?"

"Look at the screen."

When I see myself, I realize I've been scowling. I relax my face back into a smile. What _am_ I doing? I can't believe I'm letting this stupid girl get to me. But I can't help it. The thought of her being handed everything on a silver platter irritates me greatly.

The twelve chariots come to a complete stop in a ring around the City Circle. Above us on one of the balconies of the president's mansion, I see President Snow. The music stops to allow him to give his speech. He talks about courage and sacrifice and honor. And I can't help but realize the similarities between his and Tremaine Goldstein's speeches.

"So Happy Hunger Games and may the odds be _ever_ in your favor!" he finishes. As soon as the last words leave his mouth, the crowds erupt in applause and cheers. Then, the national anthem is playing and I know that the cameras are cutting to five second close-ups of each of our faces. Once the anthem ends, the chariots start to move towards the Training Center, the prison we will be staying in until the Games begin.

**Author's Notes:** Thanks for reading! :D And please remember to review, comment and favorite. Oh and am I doing a good job of making the two tributes' personalities different? I'd really like to know.


	5. Chapter Five: Allies

**Chapter Five: Allies**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hunger Games. The ideas for this story are all from the imagination of Suzanne Collins.

Omar Calhoun's POV

As soon as we enter the Training Center, Linnet and I hop off our chariot. Our team rushes to meet us and it is clear they are pleased. Well, all of them except Leon. If anything he looks stunned, but not in a good way. It's as if he just found out his mom died or something.

"You were _wonderful!_" Tremaine gasps.

"Absolutely perfect!" Rigel agrees.

Despina smiles at me, her incredibly white teeth shining in the dim twilight. "Oh I'm sure they both know that," she tells them, not even bothering to move her gaze off of me. I feel my face grow warm.

"I didn't feel that wonderful," Linnet admits sheepishly.

Saffron puts a motherly hand on my district partner's shoulder, "Don't worry about that dear. I'm sure plenty of sponsors saw you and thought differently." She looks to Leon. The gesture was so subtle that if I wasn't paying attention, I would've missed it. She continues, changing the subject, "How about we all go up the fifth floor to celebrate?"

Tremaine, Rigel and Despina all cheer in excitement. At that, we make our way towards the elevators. Unfortunately, there is a line. And it is long. All of the tributes and their teams are trying to get up to their floor. Probably wanting to celebrate as well. I end up getting pushed into the male tribute from Twelve, which is pretty awkward considering he's completely naked.

Soon, it is our turn. We cramp ourselves inside the elevator and somehow I end up at the back with Saffron. The doors close and we start moving upwards. I look around the space, searching for Leon. I count the people around me. Only five, including myself. I realize Linnet and Leon are nowhere to be found. "Where did they go?" I ask aloud.

Saffron turns to me, "I think Linnet and Leon got held back at the doors. You know how chaotic it was down there."

"Oh," is all I say.

The elevator comes to a halt and the doors open, revealing our floor. The five of us walk inside. Instantly, I am amazed. But I should be used to the Capitol rooms by now. And yet, here I am, standing in awe. My admiration gets interrupted when I hear Rigel say, "Oh look at that. They've already set out the food."

My eyes search the room for the table. There I see various dishes of Capitol delicacies. "You should change out of your costume before dinner," Despina suggests to me.

I start to head down the hallway where there are many closed doors, all probably bedrooms, when Tremaine stops me. She walks in front of me, leading me to my room.

After she closes the door, I turn around to inspect my surroundings. In the middle of the room, pushed against the wall facing the door is my bed. The sheets look expensive and uncomfortable, but who am I to judge? On either side of the bed are small tables, each holding an exquisite looking lamp. On the same wall are the windows. The curtains are drawn back, so I can see the Capitol and its many busy streets as the citizens who had decided to watch the opening ceremonies up close fight traffic as they try to get back home. On the wall to my right is a single dresser. On the wall to my left is a door. I'm a hundred percent positive it leads to a bathroom.

I open the door only to see, what do you know, a bathroom. I tear off the costume and step into the shower. For the first five minutes, I start pressing random buttons, trying to find out what they do. Eventually, I find the perfect setting. I let the hot water run down my back as I stand there, letting the jets soothe me. The shampoos and soaps smell, oddly enough, good. I decide to use the vanilla one since my prep team had used that on me earlier today and I liked the way it smelled. Well, so much for not seeming girly.

After I am done showering, I wrap a cotton towel around my waist and walk back into my room. I pull open the top drawer of the dresser and pick out the simplest pajamas I could find. I end up with a plain black tank top and blue flannel bottoms. I decide on wearing socks before opening the bedroom door.

I find only the four adults I had entered the floor with at the dining table. The three Capitol citizens are gossiping about God knows what, so I sit next to Saffron. She smiles at me as I sit down; probably glad she doesn't have to just sit there all awkward as she listens on to the other three's conversation.

"Did they come back yet?" I ask her.

She nods, "Linnet's changing and Leon's eating in his room."

I sigh. I really need to talk to Leon privately before training starts tomorrow. I need advice. I look down at the plate set in front of me. Noodles drizzled in tomato sauce with balls of meat placed strategically around the plate. I grab for a spoon, but before I do, Saffron shakes her head, handing me a fork instead. I take it, thanking her, and stab down on one of the meatballs.

Eventually, Linnet comes to join us. She has her hair up in a towel as she sits down on the other side of Saffron. The two of them start off into a conversation, leaving with nothing to do but eat, think and listen.

I take a long look at Linnet's face. It is shaped like a heart, which is odd considering District Five usually produces more circular shaped faces. But, there are always exceptions. At least that's what I figured. She has big brown eyes, like a deer's and her nose is small and delicate. She's odd, I decided. Then, a simple thought passed my mind: no wonder people didn't like her. I never really interacted with my fifteen year old district partner. She hung around Aubrey and her friends like a fly. No. She was more like their little dog. And Aubrey was her owner. I remember the time when she started to follow her around. I figured it was because she had no other friends. No one in her grade even wanted to sit with her at lunch. A lot of people called her annoying, and I just accepted it, even though I had never spoken with her. I am surprised Aubrey and her friends even tolerated her. No I'm not. Aubrey's _friends_ tolerated her. _Aubrey_ was genuine in their friendship. But that was Aubrey. She'd always been good natured. Despite the fact she was the mayor's daughter; people would've expected her to be a snob. And yet, there she was, trying to befriend everyone. I remember the moment I had first met her. We were in the same kindergarten class. She was always the student who everyone fought over to be partners with. After that, we weren't in the same class until sixth grade. That was about when nobody wanted to be around me. Somewhere during the fourth grade, a rumor about me surfaced and I was shunned. And since you can't exactly move schools, the rumor hung around my head like a private storm cloud. Anyway, in sixth grade we were assigned seat partners, and naturally she tried to talk to me. I was surprised by her eagerness to chat with me. That's how we became friends. But of course like all good things, they had to come to an end. She got into a huge fight with her then boyfriend and they broke up. She then spent the rest of that year only talking to her closest friends, completely forgetting about me. Somewhere in the middle of the following year, she remembered me and started trying to rekindle our friendship, but I was over her. From that moment, I decided to never let anyone in again.

I look back at my plate, realizing I haven't touched any of the food. I start chewing the noodles when an Avox brings in a cake. The frosting is blue, an abnormal color for food, but this is the Capitol, and so what should I expect. The red-headed servant cuts the cake and places a slice on each of our plates.

Saffron stands up from the table, "I should go see if Leon wants any."

After she leaves, Tremaine holds up her glass of red wine in a toast. "Here's to this year's tributes, Linnet and Omar!" Despina and Rigel clink their glasses against hers and they each take a sip.

I must have been staring, for Rigel says, "Would you like some boy?"

Linnet gives me a nervous glance. Screw her. "Yeah. I might as well."

Rigel motions for the Avox to bring over a fresh glass. After she returns with it, he pours some wine into the glass and hands it over to me. Tremaine watches me over the tip of her glass, a look of amusement on her face. Rigel looks on with one of his eyebrows raised. They're seeing what I'm going to do. Without another thought, I tip the glass back and swallow the liquid forcefully. It's disgusting and I shudder. Tremaine laughs and I glare at her. I take another drink from my cup, this time I down the whole thing. Both of Rigel's eyebrows are raised now. Linnet looks shocked, but it's Despina who wins in the best facial reaction category. Her face holds complete terror.

After I finish, I hand my glass over to Rigel, indicating I want more. He doesn't say anything as he pours me more wine. Eventually, things start to blur as I ask Rigel to pour me some more. Somewhere between my fifth glass, Linnet gets up and leaves, clearly disgusted. Tremaine cheers me on as I down each one. Rigel ends up giving me the entire bottle because he doesn't want to pour anymore wine for me. He leaves around the eighth glass. Despina follows behind him, giving me a look of disappointment. It's the last thing I see before passing out.

* * *

Linnet Easton's POV

I pull on my black training shirt before opening my bedroom door. As I walk down the hallway to the dining table, I tie my hair up in a high ponytail. I take a seat between Leon and Saffron. On the other side of Leon is Omar. Last night he got drunk. I could not believe what he had done. How could he succumb to such behavior? He'll have a migraine for sure. But hey, it's not my body, not my head. It crosses my mind that last night when Saffron left to get Leon, she never came back. I suddenly feel like I'm being squished between them. I try to focus on my breakfast. Today, there are fluffy pancakes with little raspberries on the top of each stack. I reach for one and drop it onto my plate.

Saffron takes the liberty in pouring syrup over my pancake. She smiles at me as she gives me a fork and a knife. I hold the utensils in my hands, unsure what to do with them. Should I use them to cut the pancake? She must have seen my confusion, for she takes them from my hands and cuts it for me. I thank her and start to eat.

"Alright kids, today is your first day of training. You'll have two days after that to work on whatever skills you think you can learn," Leon says. "I suggest you learn how to use a weapon. You'll need that to defend yourself in the arena."

Saffron adds, "You can also try to make an alliance."

An alliance? Would that be the best thing to have? Most of the time the only alliances in the Games are the six-man pack of the Careers. It's rare to see anything else. Sometimes district partners team up, but I don't think that'll be an option this year for District Five. We have completely different strategies. My mind wanders back to yesterday after the parade. Leon had held me back from going up to our floor with the rest of my team. He wanted to talk; it was clear in his eyes.

He had pulled me back to our chariot, saying, "I think I might have left something behind."

I had followed him until we had reached the chariot. Nobody had been left in the room. It had been completely empty. And the silence had made me feel nervous. He had knelt down to check under the wheels. I had folded my arms over my chest.

"What did you leave?" I had asked him, playing along to his charade.

"It's my ring," he had said.

I had knelt down beside him, checking the ground. "Are you sure you lost it here? Where was the last place you saw it?"

"I'm sure I lost it here," he had said. "I know I had it on during the parade." Then he had whispered, "We're being watched. Keep pretending to check the floor."

I had nodded. "What's this about Leon?"

"What are you two doing back here?"

Leon and I had turned around, both of us standing up abruptly. Standing at the doorway was a Peacekeeper.

"We were looking for my ring," Leon had prompted him, showing him a small circle held between his thumb and forefinger.

I had been shocked to see the ring in his hand, but of course he didn't really lose it. It had been a cover.

"Ah I see you have found it," the Peacekeeper had said. "Now move along."

Leon and I had hurried back to the elevators. Once we were inside, I had decided not to ask about what he had wanted to say. I was sure the elevator was bugged as well.

Now, I wonder what he was about to tell me. I look at him, chatting away with Omar about the different types of weapons the arena could possibly have. I know whatever it was has to be important, or else he would've said it to me straight up.

Tremaine appears at the table, "It's ten o'clock. Time to go."

Omar and I stand up and follow close behind our Capitol escort as she leads us to the elevators. As the doors close in front of us, I can't help but wonder what I should do first. Should I train with a weapon? Or should I learn about the essentials? The elevator door makes a _ding_ and opens up, revealing a large gymnasium. There are all sorts of things to do in here. Separate stations are scattered about the room, each manned by a trainer. In the center of the room is a tall woman, surrounded by a couple tributes. Omar and I walk over to her; she's obviously the one in charge. She does not say anything until there are twenty-four tributes standing in front of her.

She introduces herself as Atala. She explains to us about each station. There are a lot of survival stations to try out. She tells about the different combat training stations. And then she tells us the golden rule: no fighting the other tributes. I'm not surprised. If a tribute were to get hurt before the Games, the Capitol would seem cruel, well crueler, to put in a child with a disadvantage. Somebody told me they'd probably replace the tribute, but I have yet to see that. Besides, we're too far in the journey to replace a tribute. She also adds that lunch will be served in a couple of hours, and then she lets us disperse.

Immediately, I decide on going to the fire starting station. I know absolutely nothing about survival, so I might as well start. In my head, I tell myself to work on survival for the first two days. And then on the third day, I'll practice fighting.

As the trainer shows me how to start a fire, I listen with intent. It's basically based on friction. I keep note on everything he does. I feel somebody sit down next to me, but I do not look to see who it is. Probably some tribute trying to learn how to make a fire like me. When the trainer is done demonstrating, he lets me try. He does not watch me however. Instead, he goes to help his next student. First, I gather dry grass like he had done. I put them in a little pile and then start cutting the notch into the fire board. I then grab a piece of bark and place it under the notch. I find a spindle and place in the notch. I start rolling it between my hands. Nothing happens. I roll it faster, trying to make as much heat as possible, but instead, I end up moving the spindle off of the notch. I grunt in frustration and put it back on the wood. Suddenly, I see smoke. I get excited only to see it's not from me. I turn to see the tribute that had joined me in this station. It's the girl from Three, Telsa. The trainer looks stunned; surprised someone could start a fire so fast post-instruction.

"Wow," I say to her. "How'd you get it going so fast?"

She looks at me, "Oh it's really easy. Well for me." She brushes her choppy black hair out of her eyes, "I'm a really fast learner. Telsa by the way."

"I'm Linnet."

"Nice to meet you, Linnet." Telsa motions to my failed fire starting attempt, "Would you like me to help you?"

"Yes please."

For about an hour, she tries to show me how to make a fire. Eventually, I get it. She smiles, clearly amused at how well she did. "Well, see you around."

The gears in my head start to turn rapidly. As she gets up to go, I shout, "Wait!"

Telsa turns to me, an eyebrow arched. "Yes?"

"What do you think about us being allies?"

I can tell she's pondering over the highs and lows of an alliance with me. Finally, she shrugs, "Sure."

I stand up, dusting some of the dried grass off of my legs. "Cool. So do you want to train together? Or do you want to go off separate?"

"I think it'd be fine to go off separate for now. Wouldn't want the impression that we're working together to the others do we?"

Wow. She's already on the same wavelength as me. I'd given her the choice because it was clear she was the older one out of the two of us, despite her small size. But, she knew exactly what I had wanted. "Alright. See you around Telsa," I say before walking off to the edible plants station.

When I arrive, I catch a clear view of the Careers. The tributes from District Two aren't actually all that big this year. Don't get me wrong, they're big. But, just not like usual. The female looks taller than me by only two inches. And I'm only 5"7. The tributes from Four look lean and muscular and tan like always. I wasn't surprised. But the male from One, I knew he was their leader. He looked like he should have been in District Two, considering he looked at least 6 feet tall, maybe taller. He had large muscles and an intense facial expression. I didn't know if that was his normal face or he was just angry. Probably the latter. Next to him was _Pearl Vuitton._ I knew she wasn't going to be any use to them, just another number. But I had to admit, for a fourteen year old, she was beautiful. Of course she was. She was from District One. Somehow, that district seemed to produce the beauty queens and kings of Panem. There must be something in their gene pool, because all of them usually had blonde hair and blue eyes. I turn away from them, focusing back on the edible plants.

The trainer starts telling me about what's poisonous and what's not. She shows me the characteristics of a poisonous plant. I nod my head whenever she looks up to see if I understand. When she is done, she gives me a test. Immediately, I start sorting everything in rapid fire. Due to my abnormal brain, I have an almost perfect memory. I finish the test in record time.

The trainer checks my answers, and then shakes her head, "For a second there, I would've thought you'd ace it. But see here." She points at a picture of a small round berry. It looked similar to a blueberry, just darker. I'd figured it was in fact a blueberry. She continues, "This is nightlock. It's extremely deadly. You mistake them for something it's not and you'll be dead before it reaches your stomach."

"Oh," is all I say.

"Don't worry though," she says cheerfully. "You got everything else correct."

But I'm not even listening to her. If I had been in the arena, I would've been dead. If I were to come across these berries, I wouldn't even think twice about not eating them. I don't care I there is a small chance they might be blueberries, I'm not going to kill myself.

Suddenly, a little bell rings, signaling the time to eat. I slump over to the lunch tables. As I place some food on my tray, I can't help but feel my appetite fade away.

**Author's Notes:** Please review, I'd love to know what you think. The Games are coming soon. It'll probably be around Chapter Nine. Thanks for reading! :D


	6. Chapter Six: Training Scores

**Chapter Six: Training Scores**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hunger Games. The ideas for this story are all from the imagination of Suzanne Collins.

**Author's Notes:** So in this chapter, Omar and Linnet are going to be able to narrate twice. Mostly because I need to be able to get both of their points of views in to explain what they do to earn their training score. As usual, review, favorite, follow, I want to know what you think. ;D P.S. sorry if it's a little short.

Omar Calhoun's POV

As soon as Atala had let us disperse, I made a beeline to the sword fighting station. I pick up a long sword with a glistening blade and call over a trainer to fight me. I've never had experience with a sword, or any type of weapon, beside the occasional knife I'd use while cooking, so I need to get the most out of these three days. The trainer knocks me down within the first second. He extends his arm out to me and I take it. After I am back on my feet, he explains to me that I need to defend myself as well as attack. Multitasking is really not something I am good at, but I just nod, showing some type of understanding to him. We go at it again, but after a couple of minutes, it is clear this is not something I'm going to be good at. I abandon the swords and head off to the knife throwing station. Before I get there, I decide on going somewhere else, for the Careers have overtaken that station. I turn to walk over to the station adjacent; spear throwing.

I'm actually close enough to them to hear their conversation, so as I toss the spears at the targets, I eavesdrop. After a couple of minutes, I learn all six of their names. The huge, menacing boy from One is named Argus. His district partner, the petite blonde girl, was Pearl. But I already knew that. The male from Two was Nicholas and the female was Athena. From District Four were Marina and Pike. I watch as Argus throws three knives consecutively at a target. Each of them land around the center.

I grit my teeth and throw the spear I had been clutching with extra strength. To my surprise, it hits the target, missing the center by only a few inches. I laugh to myself as I grab another spear.

A couple of hours later, I find myself doing extremely well. I've only hit the center once, and I didn't even know what I did. But with each toss, I feel more and more confident. I'm sure by the end of tomorrow, I'll have spear throwing down.

The lunch bell rings and I saunter over to the tables. I sit alone, which is fine by me. The only people sitting together are the Careers. Everybody else is spread out across the tables, sitting alone as well. However, there are a few tributes that are forced to share a table.

When lunch is over, I go over to the knife station. I was quick to finish eating so I could get here before the Careers got an opportunity to monopolize it again. I pick up three knives, like Argus had done before, and toss them one-by-one at the target. Only one lands on the board. The other two had too much power behind them, so they ended up far behind the target. I grunt before marching over to pick them up. Suddenly, I hear laughter behind me. I turn and see the Careers standing there, watching me. I sigh to myself; this is going to be a long day.

xXx

On the second day of training, I go back to the spears. I need my practice. I decide from that point on that a spear would be the best thing to use in the arena. Today, however, I do not work on tossing them. No. Today, I will practice close ranged combat. I go over to a training dummy and starting spearing him, aiming for the upper torso all the way to the head. It's the best way to kill someone within seconds. I try to do a few tricks, you know, to make myself look cooler, but I fail miserably. The spear falls out of my hands. I hastily pick it up, making sure nobody saw me, but of course there were the Careers, standing by the fire starting station, looking smug like usual. I try my best to ignore them, but all I can feel are their stares burning into my back.

After lunch, I make the decision to learn at least something about survival. So, I go to the fire starting station. Luckily, the Careers are not there anymore. So I might as well learn this skill. I've seen tributes from past Hunger Games freeze to death because they could not start a fire. It takes the rest of the day for me to finally grasp the idea of making a fire. I attempt it a few times, but each time seems worse than the last. The trainer tries his best to help me, but I know deep down inside, he believes I will not be able to learn how to make a fire. Just as Atala calls for us to get back to our floors, I see smoke. The trainer looks shocked. I grin wickedly as I move the embers onto the dried grass. I blow carefully, and then a small fire glows in front of me.

"You did it," the trainer sounds amazed.

I only nod, ignoring the fact that he didn't even think I had a shot. Atala calls for us again, and I quickly snuff out the fire. I jog back to the elevator with a great, big smile on my face.

* * *

Linnet Easton's POV

I spend most of the second day of training working on climbing. The station is a miniature forest set apart from the other stations. I know this skill will be valuable to me. Well, at least if we are going to be in an arena with trees. If not, then I'm doing nothing but wasting my time. Climbing is only as easy as what tree you're attempting to climb. For instance, if you choose a tree with lots of footholds, then you're golden. If you choose a tree that does not, then you should probably find another tree. It also helps when there are low branches.

In no time at all, I am perched at the top of a tree branch. I lie down and decide to observe my competitors. It's a pretty good view from up here, so I am able to see everybody clearly. Telsa is working at the knot tying station. I see Omar fighting a training dummy with a spear. I turn my head to see the male tribute from District Six in a sword fight with one of the trainers. Past him are a couple of tributes from the outer districts. Across the gymnasium from them are the Careers. They are all attempting to learn how to start a fire. I laugh. Good luck trying to get anything out of that.

The next day, I decide it's time to work on fighting. I go to the knife throwing station. I think this will be the best weapon to use. An easy thing to use in hand-to-hand combat. When I throw them, I miss the target completely. Maybe I should have started learning how to handle a weapon earlier. I only have until lunch to master this skill. I'm doomed. I abandon the station and fast walk over to the axes. Most of them are too heavy, but I manage to find a smaller one. Before I even think about throwing it at a target, I decide otherwise and lug it over to the training dummies. I swiftly decapitate one of their heads. I work on this for the rest of the time. And then lunch is called.

We are given a couple of minutes to eat before the Gamemakers start calling in the first tribute. I sit alone at my table, picking the food off of my plate nervously. What if I don't do well? What am I going to show them? Why is it taking so long? Then, the boy from District One, Argus as I find out, is called. He stands up from his table and swaggers over to the door confidently. Fifteen minutes later, Pearl is called.

My heart begins to race as each tribute disappears through the door, knowing it will be my turn soon enough. The girl from Four, Marina, is called. And my heart is pounding faster. I'm up next after Omar. I decide then and there what I will show them. And then, Omar is called.

* * *

Omar Calhoun's POV

"Omar Calhoun!"

I rise from my table and make my way over to the door. I enter the gymnasium, disturbed about how odd it looks to be empty like this. I bow my head as a sign of respect, for I honestly do not know what else I am to do. I clear my throat and state my name and district. After, I stride over to the spears. I find a nice, straight one and toss it at the target. It lands a couple of inches from the bull's-eye, like usual. I bite my lip in frustration. But I grab another one and hurl it with great speed at the target. To my surprise, it hits the center. I hold in my excitement. I've got this. Feeling more confident, I take a deep breath to calm myself. I grab a hold of another spear and toss it with the same momentum as my last throw. It lands a few spaces to the left of first spear.

Sensing that I need to show them more, I jog over to the training dummies, another spear held tightly in my hands. I arrange the dummies in a circle before swinging my weapon around. I stab one through the head and make a swift movement to impale another one in its torso. I twist out the blade before jabbing backwards into another dummy's chest. I fight like this for a couple of minutes before the Gamemakers stop me.

The Head Gamemaker, Seneca Crane, thanks me and I exit the room. As soon as I reach the elevator doors, I let out a huge cheer. I feel great. I know I did well.

* * *

Linnet Easton's POV

"Linnet Easton!"

I sigh heavily as I stand up. I straighten my spine and set my shoulders back, trying to ignore the nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach. I enter through the doors and nervously walk to the center of the gym. I announce for them my name and then I go over to the poisonous berries station. I know I will regret this later, but I have no other skills I feel content about. I take the test quickly, hoping they'll appreciate perfect memory. My score is projected on the screen so they can see it. I don't bother to look at their faces; I know they are not impressed.

What should I do? Show them my axe-handling skills? I barely learned how to use them this morning. How good can I be? I realize I've made the biggest mistake that might end up costing me my life. I swallow that thought and rush over to the axes. I pick up the small one I'd used earlier and force a smile onto my face. Heading over to the training dummies, I sigh. Here goes nothing.

xXx

When I had returned from my training session, I went straight to my room. I didn't wish to speak with anyone. I bury my head in my pillow. I was terrible. Nobody's going to want to sponsor me. I'll get a one for sure, and then everyone's going to think I'm weak. That I'm useless. I let out a huge groan before the tears run down from my face. I stay locked up in my room for the rest of the night until somebody comes to get me. It's Tremaine.

"Caesar Flickerman is about to be on. He'll be announcing the scores in a couple of minutes. You should come out there," the escort prompts me from the other side of the door.

I slowly get off my bed. I knew I'd have to face the music sooner or later. I yank open the door and follow Tremaine down the hallway to the sitting area. My whole team is there, laughing, drinking, and having a good time. I sit at the edge of the couch, refusing to get comfortable. A cold shiver runs up my spine when I see the Capitol symbol appear on the screen, cheerful, upbeat music playing in the background.

Caesar Flickerman, the host of the Hunger Games, is sitting at a large desk, looking a cheery as ever. He flashes his bright white smile at us before beginning. He starts off with Argus. His picture is to the left of Caesar on the screen. Then, a score is flashing over the photo. An eleven. Surprise. Surprise. After him is Pearl, a seven. From the tributes of District Two, a nine for the boy, Nicholas, and a ten for the girl, Athena. Telsa gets an eight. I smile. At least she did well. I stare at the screen in dread. Marina's score is flashing now: a nine. Then it's Omar. Everyone in the room hushes in anticipation. His score appears: a ten. Tremaine and Rigel jump up from their seats. Saffron is clapping along with Despina, both of them giving words of praise to him. Leon is smiling, clearly pleased. They are all congratulating him. And all he is doing is sitting there, letting everything soak in. He's proud of himself, I know. But the look on his face tells me something else. Arrogance. I scoff to myself. He knew he'd get a high score. What a conceited little bastard.

It's my turn now and I cover my eyes, expecting the worst. By now, everyone has settled down to see what I got. Then, I wait. Absolutely nothing. Nobody says a word. I remove my hands from over my eyes and stare at the screen and the flashing score. I got a five. I figured this would happen. The Gamemakers wanted to be impressed, and I had failed. The reason I even got a five was from the axe. If I hadn't even demonstrated that skill, I would have scored lower.

Caesar moves on to District Six, but I do not pay attention. Saffron crosses over to me. She puts her arm around my shoulder, "It's alright Linnet. You did the best you could do. Don't worry about it. Scores are just numbers."

I shake her off of me. "Really? Then why did you all get excited when Omar scored a ten?" I snap.

Everyone is staring at me. It is completely silent in the room.

I glare at them. Especially Leon. "You know what? You were right! Who the hell would want to sponsor me anyway?" I demand him.

He looks at me, confused. "What are you talking about?"

I laugh. "You know damn well what I'm talking about! Back on the train. The night after the Reaping."

He still looks at me like I am crazy, but I can see it in his eyes he knows exactly what I'm talking about. "You're not making any sense Linnet."

"Of course I'm not!" I snarl at him sarcastically. "I guess I was just hearing things."

Saffron has a look of pity on her face. "Dear, maybe you should just go to your room. You're just angry that's all," she tells me, reaching to touch my hand.

"Fuck off!" I shout, slapping her hand away. And then I turn on my heels and storm out of the room. As soon as I get to my bedroom, I make sure I slam the door hard enough for the whole building to hear.


	7. Chapter Seven: Advice

**Chapter Seven: Advice**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hunger Games. The ideas for this story are all from the imagination of Suzanne Collins.

**Author's Notes:** Warning: from here until the rest of the story, there will be very frequent cussing. Sorry if I didn't put that there before Linnet started spitting out the profanity. :P Anyway, review, favorite and follow. Merci beaucoup!

Omar Calhoun's POV

During dinner, everyone eats in complete silence. After Linnet's little scene, a wave of awkwardness washed over all of the adult's faces. It seemed like they were all ashamed to even say anything.

In front of me is a plate of grilled fish. I don't have much of an appetite tonight. And then my eyes narrow. Why should I, and everybody else for that matter, feel bad for her? She was the one who threw a fucking temper tantrum just because she didn't get the score she wanted. But I think she deserved it. I saw her during training and she did NOT use her time wisely. No wonder she scored so low. She'll probably die off on the first day. I stab the fish with my fork in anger. Everyone was happy for _me_. I got a high score. We should be celebrating. But no! Instead, everybody feels so God damn horrible about themselves that they do not want to celebrate. I applaud her. She's not even at the table, and yet she has a lasting effect on all of us.

I look across the table at Leon. He got the worst of it. What was she talking about? That no one would want to sponsor her? She had been looking at him when she said it. Could it be possible that she overheard him talking badly about her? Did he not expect her to win? I certainly do not. And so should the sponsors. Her little stunt just might have burned her connection to the outside world while in the arena. Would Saffron even bother to help her in there? It's hard to tell. Knowing Saffron, she'd probably forgive her little tribute by tomorrow morning.

As the time creeps closer to 11:00, my team begins to head to bed. But I stay. And so does Leon. When everyone is gone, I turn to him, "What did she mean?"

"Who? Linnet?" he asks.

"Yeah. What was she talking about? Are people really not going to want to sponsor her?"

Leon leans back in his chair, "It doesn't matter to you boy."

I'm about to open my mouth to say more, but I decide to drop the subject. I shake my head, "Okay. Then what's the plan for tomorrow?" I knew the answer already, but I didn't know what else to say. Tomorrow Linnet and I would be coached on how to act at the interview. The interview would take place on Thursday. Tomorrow is Wednesday.

"Well for the first half of the day, you'll be with me. We are going to be talking about your angle, your approach when you get up on that stage with Caesar. After that, you'll be with Tremaine. She'll teach you about your presentation, you know, body language." He scratches his chin, "Although, that part might be a little shorter for you than for Linnet."

"How come?"

"She's going to teach your partner how to walk in high heels," he says with mock cheerfulness.

I laugh and then ask, "So is Linnet going to be with Tremaine for the first half of the day?"

"When else?" he asks. "It's not like that woman can be with the both of you at the same time."

I nod, "That make sense."

"Alright kid," my mentor says, standing up from his seat. "It's time you should be getting in bed. You got a long day tomorrow."

I do not argue.

xXx

After breakfast, I follow Leon to the sitting room. I sit down on one of the couches, feeling his eyes on me as he too sits down.

He clears his throat, "Now Omar. What are we going to have you do?"

I yawn. I didn't get much sleep last night, so my eyes feel heavy. "Maybe I could try to be friendly," I suggest. That's a good approach. Friendliness can go so far with these people.

"That's not enough," Leon says, shaking his head. "Being _friendly_ will NOT get anyone to remember you. You have to stick out. Be more than friendly."

"Alright," I say. "What do you have in mind?"

"I'm thinking of a cockier angle," he answers me.

"Cocky?"

"Cocky," he nods.

"So what do I have to do to be _cocky_?" I ask.

A look of confusion appears on his face, "I thought you already knew."

"What's that suppose to mean?" I demand.

"Oh. I guess not," he shrugs. "You basically just act arrogant. Like you expect to win. You know, a little like the Careers."

"Okay yeah," I say happily. "I think I can do that."

"Let's just see then."

* * *

Linnet Easton's POV

I am actually surprised anyone would want to come and talk to me after my outburst last night. But yet, there is Tremaine, knocking on my bedroom door. She tells me to open up, so I do. Just in the slowest manner possible. I crawl out of bed, my stomach growling with hunger. I hadn't eaten since lunch from yesterday. It's 8:00 now. I yank open the door, letting her inside. Today, it's all about advice. My mentor and my escort are going to be coaching the hell out of me.

Tremaine trots inside, inspect my room in disgust. She takes one look at me and scrunches her nose. "Why aren't you dressed?" she asks, annoyed.

"I just woke up," I fold my arms over my chest.

"Well go, go, go then," she shoos me with her hands.

I roll my eyes as I walk over to my dresser. I find a simple pair of shorts and a white shirt before heading over to my bathroom.

As I am putting on my clothes, I hear her complain, "And why are these shutters closed? Let some light into this room, _please_." I hear the shutters open two seconds later.

When I come back to face her, she has a long gown and a pair of heeled shoes in her hands. "Put this over your clothes," she orders me, shoving the dress into my hands. "And then, put these on," she adds, placing the heels on the ground by my feet.

I oblige and soon I am in a long glittery dress and tall heels. She looks me over before saying, "Watch how I walk, darling." She crosses the room in her ridiculous shoes with ease.

I try to walk after her. But, all I do is manage to not fall to the floor in shame. She demonstrates again, "No, no, no. Like this."

I watch her feet closely. Her steps are dainty and slow; her stride very short. She barely bends her knees. Her back is straight and her head is held high. She walks in a straight line, so her hips sway back and forth. I emulate her. And to my surprise, she looks impressed. "Go again, dear," she says.

So I do. I practice and soon enough I've got it down. It wasn't even that hard, but my feet feel uncomfortable. So, I sit down on my bed and take off the shoes, letting my feet relax. "What next?" I ask her.

"Remember to smile and act polite," she tells me. "Always have your back straight."

I take a mental note of that. "Anything else?"

"Answer all of Caesar Flickerman's questions and be sure to look out to the audience."

That doesn't sound too hard. "Is that it? Or are we done?" I ask.

"We're done," she holds out her hand for the gown and shoes back. As I remove the dress, she says casually, "I'd go eat if I were you."

I stare at her after placing the gown in her hands. How did she know I was hungry? And then I hear my stomach growl. Was it always growling like that? Who cares? Without another word, I pull open the door and scurry down the corridor to the table.

xXx

As I am about to finish eating, my mind wanders again. I'm going to have to talk to Saffron now. I feel horrible about what I did to her. I'll be surprised if she even wanted to give me advice. I duck my head in shame as I bring my spoon full of cereal to my mouth.

"Linnet."

I look up to see Leon standing on the other side of the table. I narrow my eyes at him, "What do you want?"

"To talk. Will you come with me?"

"I thought I'm going to be talking with Saffron," I state, folding my arms across my chest.

"No. I asked her and she said it'd be fine if I gave you the advice instead," he tells me.

"Fine. Whatever," I say, standing up from my seat.

He leads me to his room, his hands shoved in his pant pockets. He opens the door for me before closing it behind him. I stand in the middle of the room with my arms crossed. Leon sits down in one of the chairs pushed up against the wall.

"Before we start, I'd like to begin with an apology," he says. "I truly am sorry. I don't know exactly what you heard back on the train, but you have to understand where I'm coming from."

I don't say anything, so he continues, "Saffron does not understand that growing attached to the tributes will only make it harder for her to cope with their…." He stops to look at me. I make a motion with my hand to tell him to continue. "With their death."

"She's new at this. She started being a mentor only three years ago during the 63rd Games. She didn't take the deaths that well. So each year I remind her to keep her distance. I have to. I care about her too much. But I, on the other hand, am fine with the distance. And that's because I was forced to become a mentor the year after I had won. Brites Messier didn't give me the option to choose to go. He was the older one, so what he said goes. Anyway, I had only been eighteen, barely an adult. The things I had seen, had gone through, were still fresh in my mind. When I witnessed their deaths, I couldn't take it. I didn't want to be a mentor, but every year after that, Brites made me and Allura go. Eventually, I learned it would be best not to get involved," his face looks tired. I can't help but feel bad for him. I think about his relationship with Saffron. They don't deserve this. Nobody does. I can imagine Saffron in tears as her tributes are murdered in front of her eyes. And there's Leon, pulling her into his chest, trying to shelter her.

He interrupts my thoughts, "I wasn't lying when I said you won't be getting any sponsors. Pearl Vuitton will be getting most of them. So do not expect anything while she is alive in the arena."

I don't. That's why I'm going to make sure she won't stay alive that long. I purse my lips together, waiting for Leon to continue.

He reaches his hand into his pocket, pulling out a ring. I remember this ring. He'd used it as a cover back on the night of the opening ceremonies. He rubs it with his finger, "I talked to your dad."

I stare at him, "What are you talking about? You talked to my dad?"

He nods, "Yeah. He wanted you to have this." Leon holds out the ring for me. I cross over to him and take it out of his hands. I turn it over. There was an inscription on the inside of the ring. It says: _to my daughter._ I stare at the words.

"How do you know him?"

"We go way back," he admits. "When he told me to give this to you, he made me promise to help you in every way I could."

I duck my head. I should've chosen Leon as my mentor. I didn't know my dad was friends with Leon. If I could go back, I would. Now he can't really do much to help me. He has Omar to worry about. And Saffron has me to care for.

I put the ring on my right index finger, "Now about this angle. What am I going to do for my approach?"

* * *

Omar Calhoun's POV

I shut off the television and stalk over to the dining room at about 7:00. An hour ago, dinner had been served. So, the table was empty except for Leon and Saffron. In front of them is a chess board. I take a closer look. "Who is winning?" I ask.

"I am," Leon says without looking up.

Saffron rolls her eyes, "No you are not."

"Really? Because I just got…." he moves his queen piece forward. "Check mate."

Saffron sounds exasperated, "You just got lucky."

"Can I play?" I ask.

"Be my guest," Leon motions to Saffron's seat. She gets up for me to sit down. "Do you know how to play, boy?"

"I know a little," I admit. But that was a lie. Chess was a game I played frequently with Kano, my brother, all the time. I loved to beat him. The look on his face was too priceless.

"Then let us begin," he says. "You can go first."

It turns out Leon Hubble is actually quite good at chess. I'm impressed. But, he's not good enough to beat me. Thirty-five minutes later, I have him in check mate. At his defeat, he grunts and makes some kind of lousy excuse about him losing. I laugh and start to get up when Tremaine slips into Leon's chair.

She holds a martini in her hand, "Let's play."

I shrug, "If you insist."

Tremaine was easier. She only lasted twenty minutes. I wouldn't be surprised if she had never played chess in her life. She made the most ridiculous moves. I took out nearly all of her pieces before shouting, "Check mate."

She gets up, "This game is pathetic anyway. How come the king can only move one space at a time? That makes no sense. He's _supposed_ to be the most powerful player."

When Tremaine leaves, Rigel takes her place, "I want to play. But I might not be that good."

That was an understatement. He was horrible. The game only lasted ten minutes. I could not believe how bad he was. When he lost, he looked utterly confused.

After him, Despina sits down. I sigh, what is up with everybody? I have to admit though, Despina is good. We play for forty-five minutes until I finally beat her. She knew what she was doing, unlike the other two Capitol citizens on my team. But, in the end, her defeat is inevitable. I grin at her as she gets up from her seat.

"Would I be able to play?"

Leon, Saffron, Rigel, Tremaine, Despina and I look towards the direction the voice came from. It belongs to Linnet. She is standing asunder from our group, quietly observing.

"Sure," I say to my district partner. "Do you know how to play?"

She shrugs, "I've been watching you all play. I think I've got the whole idea down."

She takes her seat and I begin to reset the board. This will probably be the last game of the night. Honestly, I am tired. But, I'm not going to deprive somebody of a chess game. Especially their first chess game. "Do not think I'm going to go easy on you," I tell her.

"Okay."

We start the game and I can't help but smile at her ignorance. You can't just learn how to play chess by watching. You've got to experience it firsthand. The pieces on the board start to disappear. I even take out her queen with my bishop. She looks shocked when I do this. But then, she uses her rook to eliminate my bishop. Eventually, the only pieces she has left are her king, a rook and a couple of pawns. I, on the other hand, have my king, my queen, a bishop and a few pawns as well.

I decide to end the game, because frankly, I am getting tired. I move my queen towards her king. She starts to try to get away, but each time I move my piece forward. And then, her pawn reaches the other side of the board.

She tilts her head at me, "I guess that means my piece promotes into a queen."

I stare at her, my eyes bulged. How the hell did she know that? Nobody had done that while playing me. And yet, somehow she knew the pawn could get promoted to a queen once it reaches the other side of the board. My mouth is agape. She's played before. And I had been too careless to realize what she had been doing. She meant to sacrifice her queen, so I could feel comfortable and would not expect anything like this to happen.

"I guess so," I say nervously.

I advance forward with my queen to try to get her king, but she does not care. She moves her rook so that it is in line with my king. And suddenly I am in check mate.

She smiles at me, her eyes dancing playfully, "I guess I win."

I look up at her face in surprise. She tricked me. She pretended like she did not know how to play, but in reality she was good. Great even. I can't believe I was beaten. I scan her smile, realizing the deadliness in it. She might have gotten a five in training, but this girl is no force to be reckoned with. Suddenly, I feel less sure that she will be so easy to kill.


	8. Chapter Eight: Interviews

**Chapter Eight: Interviews**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hunger Games. The ideas for this story are all from the imagination of Suzanne Collins.

Linnet Easton's POV

When I wake up, the dawn is barely breaking through the windows. I stare at my bedroom door, expecting my prep team to bust in. They do not. I grab the alarm clock on the nightstand. It's only 6:32am. I place it back on the table and sigh. Today will be nothing but torture. For the next twelve hours, my prep team and Rigel are going to be getting me ready for my interview with Caesar Flickerman. What could they possibly do to me that will require twelve hours?

As I peer into the slowly withdrawing darkness, I can't help but go back to last night when I had defeated Omar at his chess game. I smile to myself. The look on his face was utter perfection. If only I could've snapped a photo of it. I never told him that I didn't know how to play. He just assumed. I actually had played before, but it was one time. I had been in the eighth grade. A boy I had a crush on was playing it at one of the tables during lunch. I asked him if I could play, despite my inexperience. He accepted my challenge and I sat down. What came next was the most miserable moment of my life. He defeated me, badly. But during those few minutes, I picked up the whole concept. I learned how each piece moved, what pieces could or could not do. So, when Omar began playing my team last night, I watched. I saw what they did not see. His strategy was exactly the same each time. I asked if I could play, knowing he would not even bother to strain from his uniform tactics. I maneuvered my game play around him, so in the end when he had gone to try to put me in checkmate, I already was one step ahead of him.

A knock at the door causes me to sit up. Before I even say, "Come in," my prep team has burst into the room. The three women stare at me happily.

"Good morning Birdie!" the woman with the long red hair says.

"What?" I ask her. "Why did you call me that?"

"As if you didn't know," she says, putting a hand on her hip. "A linnet is a type of bird."

"Oh yeah," I say. Nobody really called my "Birdie" before, but my parents would always occasionally mention the origins of my name.

"Now get up," the woman with the hot pink skin orders.

I oblige. They push me to the bathroom and hand me the soap and shampoo they want me to use. They close the door behind them, leaving me to shower in privacy. I turn on the water and remove my pajamas. The water is relatively hot. I stand under it until I feel warm enough. Then, I get down the business.

After I am done, I reach for a towel to dry myself. I did not have the time to grab some clothes to wear, so I put on a bathrobe. It's probably better this way to not have anything on. My prep team probably would've ordered me to take it off.

I open the door gently and timidly walk into my bedroom. The woman with the long red hair is standing behind a chair. She pats the seat, telling me to sit down on it. Once I do, the three women get to work. The red-haired woman wraps my hair up into a towel to dry, while the woman with the hot pink skin starts working on my nails. The last woman in my prep team, a petite lady with tight, bright yellow curls and emerald green eyes, brings out her makeup kit. She starts to cover my face with a pale powder, supposedly to match my skin tone.

As they work, they begin to talk about some upcoming fashion designer's show. Since I have nothing to do, I listen in on their trivial chit-chat. The designer, Trajan Carduelis as I find out, has some kind of new clothing line. As my prep team puts it, 'the greatest new designs in plumage.'

The woman with the hot pink skin pats my hand, "Oh you'd absolutely love his dresses Linnet."

Because they are covered in feathers? Who would want to wear something like that? It takes all of my strength to not frown, "I'm sure I would."

The woman with the yellow curls smiles, still dusting my face with another layer of powder. She says, "How wonderful! I can imagine it now: Linnet Easton, the bird of the Capitol, no, of Panem!"

My cheek muscles twist up into another fake smile, "I'd bet you guys would love that." I make sure there is no sarcasm injected into that statement. I don't want to burn this bridge with them. After my explosion on my team, things have been different. I know they are all looking at me different. Like the expect me to go off again. It's better to keep my relationship with these three women on good terms. I mean, if I anger them in any way, God knows what they'll do to me. They are, in fact, the dictators of how I will look in public.

"You know what?" the red-haired one says cheerfully. "I think I could get you a dress." She pats my shoulder, "I know a couple of people who work with him. It's all about connections here in the fashion world."

"Really?"

"Yes really," she agrees. "I can have it arrive sometime tomorrow."

I decide not to tell her that by tomorrow, I will not be able to wear the dress. No, tomorrow I'll be in the arena. A dress would serve no function out there. So, I keep my mouth shut. Even if I do not get to wear the dress, I'm sure they'll pull a few strings to have the mortician put it on for me. Then, I'd be going to my funeral in feathers. I'm so glad I have someone with connections.

I try my best to sound upbeat, "Thank you so much."

"No problem, Birdie."

Then, they start talking about a popular television show. I figure it would be best not to add anything to their conversation. So, I sit in silence, deep in thought.

xXx

Eventually, my prep team finishes decorating me around noon. An Avox comes into my room and delivers a tray of lunch for me. I eat for about fifteen minutes and then Rigel enters through the door. He is holding a black bag I assume holds my gown. The woman with the hot pink skin dabs at the corners of my mouth, careful not to wipe away any makeup. I'm still in the bathrobe, so I am anxious to put something over my naked body.

Rigel helps me out of my chair. He grins at me as he unzips the bag.

A few minutes later, I am in a short white dress that ends just above my knees. Above my waist is a black belt made of some kind of silk material. The dress would be defined as strapless, if it weren't for the one strap holding the gown to my body. There is a black floral design that wraps around one half of the dress like a net. I'm wearing black heels, probably three inches tall, because now I am the same height as Rigel, who I estimate to be 5"10. My hair is set in an elaborate style, but I think it looks like a more advanced ponytail. Although, my hair is curled, this is new. The whole thing is held together with a white hair ribbon. I realize it is _my_ hair ribbon. The one I had been wearing a week ago at the Reaping. I resist the urge to touch it. Memories of home rush through my mind as I stare at myself in the floor-length mirror.

I hold back my tears since that would make my prep team mad. They spent hours on my face. And it certainly paid off. My features look more defined. My eyes look bigger, more innocent looking. My lids are painted a warm brown color. My lips are light pink. I try out smiling. My teeth look inhumanly white. I look different.

Rigel appears beside me. "You look beautiful," he says.

He probably said that to all of his tributes. But I don't tell him that. Instead, I say, "I don't feel like myself."

"Of course you don't, Birdie," the red-haired woman says.

I look down at my hands. My nails are perfectly manicured and painted a glossy white. I spot the silver ring on my right index finger. I hadn't taken it off since Leon had given it to me. I don't look up, "I just want to thank you all. You guys are wonderful people for helping me."

My prep team sighs in appreciation. They don't understand that I'm not really thanking them. I'm telling them good-bye. This will be the last time I will ever see them. Rigel, well I'll be with him until I get to the arena. Then, it's time to go. Rigel and I leave them in my room as we walk down the hallway to the elevator. We meet up with the rest of our team and then together, the seven of us descend down to the lobby of the Training Center.

I stare at Omar. He's in a simple grey suit. The shirt underneath the jacket is white and the tie is black. His shoes are black as well and his hair is slicked back. I'd bet he didn't have to stay under prep that long.

When the elevator door opens, Omar and I are ushered to the stage where the rest of the tributes are lined up. We sit down in the seats reserved for District Five. I look around nervously, the interviews will begin soon. As the remaining tributes get to their chairs, more and more chatter comes from the audience. I hear them even from backstage. My feet begin to tap. I know it's about sundown, but everything is still bright and shining. The wonders electricity can do for a city. Suddenly, I hear Caesar Flickerman. He begins with welcoming everyone. He cracks a few jokes like he usually does then gets down to business. Pearl Vuitton is called, since it's always ladies before gentlemen.

The tributes and I train our eyes on the big screen in front of us. We all watch attentively as Pearl is introduced. The audience roars in applause. Caesar has to tell them to calm down before starting, for the interviews only last three minutes and their interruptions are eating away the time to talk. Eventually, they stop and he begins.

"Now Pearl. How has your experience in the Capitol been so far?"

The blonde gushes, "Oh it's been wonderful Caesar. Absolutely wonderful. But, I am so sad to be leaving tomorrow." She pouts and the audience swoons. She smoothes out her floor-length dress. It appears to be entirely made up of glitter.

Caesar, in his dark green wig, takes her hand and squeezes it, "Don't worry dear. I'm sure you'll be back here soon enough."

Of course. I roll my eyes. The rest of her interview passes by, but I refuse to pay it any attention. Somewhere along the lines, Caesar mentions her father. And I can't help but listen in.

"It's really unfortunate that your father, Clay, must mentor you on this journey," he says, genuine sadness in his voice.

"It is," she agrees. "But I know he'll do the best he can to get me out of the arena alive."

The screen flickers to an image of who I presume to be Clay Vuitton. He has blonde hair and piercing blue eyes like her. He waves to the camera.

"I'm sure he will," Caesar nods. And then her time is over. He thanks her for talking to him, before calling out Argus.

xXx

The boy from District Four mounts the stage. Caser introduces him as Pike. I feel my heart racing, sure that it will burst any moment. I am shaking like a leaf. I am next. My teeth begin to chatter. I do not want to go out there. For a moment, I go deaf. And then, Pike is dismissed. It's my turn. Omar nudges me and I stand. I feel my legs wobbling as I march onto the stage. Caesar introduces me and I sit. To my surprise, I get applause from the audience.

My hearing returns and I rub my ring nervously.

"Hello Linnet," Caesar says.

"Hello Caesar."

"So my dear, what is your favorite thing about the Capitol so far?" he asks me.

"So far?" I hear myself ask. Oh. Did I really just say that aloud?

Caesar nods, "Yes. So far."

"Um…" I search my brain for a brilliant response, but I can't find one. "The people," I blurt out.

"The people?"

"Yes. I've never seen so many people like you in my life," I admit. "All of the colors and feathers…" Instantly, I think about what my prep team had said earlier today. "Did I mention my prep team is going to get me a dress from Trajan Carduelis' new collection?"

The audience oohs and aahs. They are impressed. I smile.

Caesar looks stunned, "Really? Those dresses are not even out yet!"

"I know," I grin, thinking about what the red-haired woman had said. "You see Caesar; it's all about connections here in the fashion world."

He and the audience laugh at my statement. I even manage a chuckle. The nerves have already disappeared. What was I worried about?

* * *

Omar Calhoun's POV

I watch as Linnet dazzles the Capitol with her humor. Tonight, she looks beautiful. Surprisingly different. In a really good way. She seems confident and at ease as she answers the rest of Caesar's questions. I notice he does not mention her training score.

Soon, her time is up, and it's my turn. I am called to the stage and I walk out waving and smiling.

Caesar shakes my hand, "So Omar, let's get started right away. During the Reaping, I could not help but notice your composure. You looked unbelievably calm. What was going through your mind at that very moment?"

"I was honestly shocked. I couldn't believe I would be in the Hunger Games. You see, it was my last reaping," I tell him.

"I bet that damaged your mood," he says.

"Not really. I figured I was going to go into the arena, run around for a couple of days, and then kill everybody," I reply.

Caesar nods in agreement, "I bet your mentor Leon Hubble, taught you a lot."

"He did," I say, leaning back in my seat. "I have a pretty good feeling I'll be back in this seat talking to you in about a week, Caesar."

He looks amused, "I'll be sure to keep the seat warm for you."

The audience laughs. I look out to them grinning, "You better. I don't like the cold."

"Of course you don't," he says. "Who does? _Certainly_ not me!"

I chuckle and then Caesar moves onto another topic. "Now about your training score. A ten? That's impressive," he remarks.

"Thank you. Thank you. I try."

"Any hints of what you did?"

"Nah," I say. Then I lean in to talk to him closely. "You'll just have to watch and see."

Before he can reply, a buzzer goes off, indicating the end of my time. Caesar thanks me for my time and I walk offstage. I take my seat beside Linnet and watch as the girl from District Six makes her way over to Caesar.

The rest of the interviews are of no importance to me. The boy from District Six acts cool, calm and collected. The girl from District Seven plays it like she is impressed. Soon, the interviews come to a close and Linnet and I head over to our team, waiting by the elevator. We go up to our floor in silence. Tomorrow is the day. The big day we've all been waiting for.

Because of this reason, Linnet and I say good-bye to everybody but our stylist. We'll be seeing them later. Tremaine pats me on the head, telling me it was fun being beat by me in chess. Saffron hugs me, wishing me the best. And then there's Leon, he does not hug me. Instead, he puts his hand on my shoulder.

"You can do it, boy," he tells me. "Remember to go out swinging."

I nod and thank them. And then, it's time for bed. Linnet and I stand outside our doors, facing each other.

"This is it," she says to me.

"Yep," I agree. "I guess this is good-bye. Unless, of course, we see each other later."

"Yes it is. Well, good-bye."

"Good-bye and good luck," I tell her.

Both of us disappear into our rooms. I change out of my suit and put on my pajamas. I then turn off the lights and climb into bed. I close my eyes, but I can't fall asleep. Visions of tomorrow dance around in my head. But eventually, I drift off into a deep slumber.

**Author's Notes: **This is it! The Games are going to begin in the next chapter. It'll be up in a couple of days. Be sure to check it out! As always, review, favorite and follow! Thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter Nine: The Bloodbath

**Chapter Nine: The Bloodbath**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hunger Games. The ideas for this story are all from the imagination of Suzanne Collins.

Linnet Easton's POV

A knock at the door stirs me from my slumbers. I prop myself up to get a clear view of the door. I rub my eyes and then there is pain in my stomach. I can't tell if it's from an outside force or if it's the nervousness. I shakily step out of bed. My bedroom's curtains are closed, but I don't have to look out it to know it's not seven yet. I cross the room to the dresser. There, I find the clothes I am to wear today. I stare at them with a blank expression on my face. This is what I will be wearing when I die.

I put the outfit on in the order they are stacked. First, over my underwear, are black thermals. Next, are the socks. They are made out of a soft wool material and go up to my knees. After that, is a pair of acrylic, water-resistant pants. It is also black. Then, there is a white fleece turtle-neck. I see a pair of boots left on the floor. I assume they are the shoes I am to wear in the arena. I lace them up. They have pretty good traction. They'll keep me warm enough, for they go up to my knees as well. As I pull open the door, I can't help but guess which arena I'm going to be placed in.

Rigel is waiting outside of my room. He does not say a word, but he doesn't have to. I know what to do. He leads me down the hallway in silence. For the first time in forever, our floor looks empty. There is no light but the small bits of sunshine that creeps in from the windows. It's dead quiet. We are the only one's there. I think Omar and Despina may have already left. I hang my head, my fingers fidgeting with my ring.

I trail after my stylist into the elevator. He pushes one of the buttons. And then, we start moving upwards. When the doors open, I find the roof. It too is empty except for the single hovercraft waiting in the air for us. I grab onto the ladder and climb, Rigel following close behind me. We are pulled inside only to meet a woman in a white coat.

She holds out her hand, "Give me your arm."

I place my arm in her hand, and she injects a syringe into me. I stare at the new formed lump in my skin. I refrain from touching it, but it hurts like hell. This will be the device that'll keep track of where I am. It'll also tell the Gamemakers when my heart stops beating. The woman leaves and an uneasy feeling washes over me. I clench my stomach. I haven't eaten anything. I didn't get to have my last meal.

Rigel, seeming to sense my hunger, pulls me gently to another part of the hovercraft. I sit down at a table and an Avox enters the room with a tray of food. He places it in front of me before leaving. I eat in silence.

My stylist sits across from me staring out the window. I turn my head too. We are zipping through the sky. The Capitol is far behind us. I don't know where we're going, but I assume it'll be somewhere far up. The arenas are never in the same place twice, so we definitely will not be at the beach. The rest of the ride lasts for about an hour. Eventually, the windows darken and I know we are near the arena.

I stand up from my table and follow Rigel back to the ladder. We climb down into an underground room. We walk down the corridor for a while until Rigel stops at a door. He unlocks it and we go inside. The room is completely metallic. It smells new. Because it is. I know nobody will ever use this Launch Room again. Rigel goes to the corner of the room. There is a closet with one single black jacket. I head over to him and let him put it on for me. It seems to be waterproof. It's thick and warm in the inside. He then hands me gloves. They are black as well, but they are movable. I'll be able to grip a weapon firmly. I put them on, knowing I will be needing them for what's ahead.

Rigel motions to my hair. I had forgotten to put it up. Don't want it to fly in my face, do I? He stands behind me and puts it up in a tight bun. Then, he pulls my hood over my head.

"Are you ready?" he asks me quietly.

"_As ready as I'll ever be_." My words echo throughout my skull. A picture of my father flashes in my mind. He takes a bite out of his bread. I watch as a few crumbs fall into his lap. My eyes begin to fill with tears. I start touching the ring.

Suddenly, a voice comes on the intercom. She tells us it is time to prepare for the launch. I look at Rigel, utter terror in my eyes. He looks away, "Let's go." His voice is quivering.

As he leads me to the tube, he avoids looking me in the eyes. I'm shaking, even under his grip. I stand on the circular plate. It is only then when I realize my stylist, with his crazy purple dragon tattoo, dark blue hair and light green skin, is crying. My shaking increases.

"You can do it," he utters.

I shake my head, but he stops me from protesting. "Remember to find food. Don't want you to starve, do we?" He is trying to sound upbeat, but I know he is only doing that to keep the tears at bay.

"Thank you for everything, Rigel," I tell him.

He bites the inside of his cheek as he steps back. The tube closes around me, and I feel myself being lifted off of the ground. It's dark for a couple of seconds. I hear Claudius Templesmith's voice, "Ladies and gentlemen, let the Sixty-Sixth Hunger Games begin!"

The darkness is replaced by bright sunshine. I swallow. I'm still shaking, but I force myself to stop. Fortunately, my body complies. I tell myself I will NOT fall off my plate.

Above the Cornucopia, is a timer. It starts to count down from sixty. This gives me enough time to survey my surroundings. Around us are mountains. They surround a good seventy-five percent of the arena. The other twenty-five percent is forest. Everything is covered in a good amount of deep snow. The plates are slightly elevated off of the ground.

Forty-five seconds. I see Omar all the way on the other side of the Cornucopia.

Thirty-nine seconds. I spot the Careers. Each of them is a good distance apart from one another. The one closest to me is Nicholas from District Two.

Thirty seconds. I find Telsa, my ally. I wasn't able to talk to her that much, but I make eye contact with her. She nods. I make the decision to run to her.

Twenty-four seconds. I turn my attention on the Cornucopia. I see nothing of value to me. A backpack would be wise to get I suppose. But then, what weapon will I choose? A wide array is probably set up inside, but will I even get there before being slaughtered? What am I thinking? Of course I'm not going to run into the Cornucopia. That's a death wish. And I plan on staying alive for longer than a minute. I know I will not be able to outrun most of these tributes.

Eleven seconds. I make up my mind. No Cornucopia equals no death. I look towards Telsa, ready to run as fast as I can.

Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Or maybe I can… Three. Two. One. A gong goes off, signaling the start of the Games. Pandemonium erupts as the tributes start to scatter. Some run to the forest. Others run up into the mountains. But most are making the mad dash to the Cornucopia. I run off my plate towards Telsa. And then I stop.

Argus from District One is standing in front of her. He does not have a weapon, but that doesn't stop him from snapping her neck with a sudden swift moment. She falls to the ground. She might be dead, but I'll find out later. I stand in shock. Around me, kids are being murdered. More tributes are dead. I start walking in a daze. My head is spinning. What's going on?

The girl from District Twelve is running towards me. She has no weapon in her hand. But she does have a backpack. I shove her to the ground. "Give me the backpack," I demand.

"Hell no!" she spits. "I just ran into the fucking bloodbath to get this damn thing. You get one yourself."

I step towards her. Without thinking, I take a swing at her face with my right hand. "What the fuck?" she screams.

"Give me the backpack," I repeat, this time more forcefully.

She sneers, "No fucking way."

I kneel down and start punching her in the face repeatedly. Her screams of terror fill my ears. What am I doing? I stop and move away from her. By now her face his bleeding. And her cheek is ripped up. I stare at her in horror. What happened?

She touches her torn up cheek. She's crying now. "Here!" she throws the backpack at me. "Take it!"

I grab the pack and take off. What did I do? I stare down at my hand. Sure enough, I'm bleeding too. No. I'm not. There is blood on my hand. My ring is now completely red. Did I just cut up her face? I don't look back to see what happens to her. I see the mountains up ahead and run towards it.

* * *

Omar Calhoun's POV

When the gong finally goes off, I rush off my plate towards the Cornucopia. I'm pretty fast, so I'll be there before most of the tributes. I look around me. Nobody is as close as I am. I grin to myself before sprinting harder.

I reach the Cornucopia and quickly look around. I spot the spears. And then, the boy from District Six arrives. We stare at each other for a moment. Then, he grabs a sword and a backpack. He gives me a nod before taking off towards the mountains. I find a backpack as well. With my spear in hand, I dash off to the forest. A tribute gets in my way. Without thinking, I slice him down. Is he dead? I could care less. One less tribute for me to worry about.

I sprint through the trees with ease. I start to feel my sides hurt, but I do not stop. I need to put enough distance from me and the rest of the tributes. I start to hear cannons go off. The bloodbath is coming to an end. I listen. With each blast, I count one off on my fingers. When they stop, I find out that eleven people are dead. Tonight, I'll see who died.

xXx

Eventually, I stop in front of a cave. By now, it is sundown. I peer inside, but decide it's best to not stay there. So, I set up camp in the bushes outside of the cave entrance. I empty my backpack to check the contents. I find a sleeping bag, a bag of beef jerky, a box of matches, a bag of dried fruit, iodine drops, ear muffs and a water bottle. I twist off the cap and lift the tip to my mouth. No water comes out. I figured. The Capitol wouldn't give us water that easily. I look around for a possible water source, but to no prevail. Even if there is a river or a lake somewhere, chances are it'll be frozen over.

I spread out the sleeping bag over the snow. It seems water proof from the outside, so I won't have to worry about the melted snow. I then start placing everything back into the pack. After I am finished, I lie down on the bag and stare up at the sky. It's dark now and the stars are out. But I know better. They are just projections in the sky. I chuckle to myself.

I move my pack under my head. In the morning, I'll be sure to keep moving. But for now, I'll just sleep here. I wonder how my family is doing back home in District Five. Is my father alright? How about Kano? And Callie? Oh how I miss my dog. But I shouldn't worry. I'll be home soon enough. I just have to take it one day at a time. I know things will be different when I get home. My previous relationships with everybody will be tainted just from the fact that I am a victor. My peers will want to talk to me, befriend me even. And the rumor about me will suddenly disappear from everyone's mind. I wonder what Aubrey will think. Will she want to talk to me too? Or will she be disappointed that I came home instead of Linnet? What will become of my relationship with Aubrey? It's true that at one point, I thought I liked her. But now? I'm not so sure. And how about Despina? What _about_ Despina? Do I have feelings for her? I don't even know. I'm sure it's illegal for a Capitol citizen to marry someone from the districts. But who knows? I certainly haven't heard of anything like it before.

I reach into my pack and bring out the ear muffs and the bag of dried fruit. I place the muffs over my ears. The cold air makes the rest of the face feel frozen. It's the only exposed skin I have. I pull my jacket hood over my head. I still feel cold, but slightly warmer. I then open my pack. I take out a piece of the fruit and start nibbling on it. Suddenly, the Capitol seal is in the sky. I watch attentively as the anthem blares all over the arena. The seal fades and the first tribute's headshot appears.

It's the boy from District Three. His district partner appears next. Then, it's the girl from District Six. That means all of the Careers are alive. And so are Linnet and the boy from Six. After is the boy from Seven. Both tributes from Eight and Nine. And all three girls from Ten, Eleven and Twelve. After the last picture is projected into the sky, the anthem plays and then all is black.

I finish my piece of fruit before closing the bag and shoving it back into my pack. I then crawl into the sleeping bag, taking off my boots. I leave them by my spear. I don't want the inside of the bag to get wet. I can feel the snow squish under me. At least it's not that cold in the forest. I'm sure the mountains are colder. I zip up the side of the sleeping bag, trying to get warmer. Even under all of the clothes Despina had left out for me, I still feel cold. But inside the sleeping bag, it seems as if I'm in a sauna. I think the bag must generate heat because I warmed up fast.

Suddenly, I hear footsteps. They come from the cave. It's probably some tribute trying to find shelter. At least I didn't set up camp inside there. I move lower to the ground, if that's even possible. I'm hidden pretty well, so I don't have to worry about getting discovered, but still, there's a small voice in the back of my head telling me to be prepared for an attack. I reach out for my spear and wait. I listen closely for the footsteps. But I can no longer hear them. The tribute must have stopped to rest in the cave. I decide to wake up before dawn so I can abandon the area before the tribute discovers me.

I drift into a light slumber five minutes later, the spear still clenched tightly in my hand.

xXx

I wake up when I hear the sudden squish of footsteps in the snow. I do not sit up. Instead, I peer out through the openings in the bush. I see a figure walking in the darkness. The time? I can only estimate that it is four in the morning. My spear is still in my hand. I tense up, waiting for the moment my location is revealed.

The figure starts walking towards me. I pull my spear closer to me. The figure stops above my bush. I've been discovered, I know. Without thinking, I grunt, plunging the spear upwards into the unknown tribute. It's a girl. She screams in terror as my weapon enters her body. I spring up and out of my sleeping bag. I point the tip of the spear at her face. I can barely make out her features, but I can easily recognize her. It's the girl from District Seven. I show her no mercy, despite her pleads. I stab down again, this time, I know, ending her life. The cannon goes off and all I can do is curse. My location is now revealed to any tribute within a mile of me. I scramble to the ground and start shoving on my boots. By now, my socks are wet from standing in the snow. I roll up my sleeping bag and shove it into my backpack. I then sling it over my shoulder and take off.

I run a pretty far distance away from my camp. I pause to watch the hovercraft take her body away. I wipe the tip of my spear in the snow, cleaning it of her blood. I've killed two people. Hopefully, any potential sponsors will notice I'm a fighter and decide to help me. I know Leon will be at work. I pop my knuckles habitually. Where to go now?

As I walk through the snow, I can't help but wonder what Linnet is doing. It's still pretty early, so she might be asleep. If it comes down to me and her, I will not hesitate to kill her. She humiliated me in my chess game. I'm not saying I have a grudge towards her, but I want to win. And I'll pay any price to come home a winner. Even if it means ending her life.

I swing my spear around in front of me. If another tribute runs into me, I'll kill them on sight. I know I'm being ruthless, but it's a cruel world. It's kill or be killed. Hunt or be hunted. The Careers have it right. And to think they're the bad guys. I can't help but sympathize with them. Always dubbed as the villains of the arena by the outer districts. I'm sure I'm portrayed in that way as well. I laugh to myself, who cares if the cameras are probably trained on me? Who cares if I seem crazy?

My stomach starts to growl and my throat feels nothing but parched. I decide to check for water since I already have food. The dried jerky and fruit will probably last me for another day. I pull out the bag of jerky and start munching on it. I end up finishing it off. I discard the bag in a nearby bush. I'm not polluting nature. This outdoor space is nothing but artificial. I'm sure it'll be gone if I try to find it again.

I turn my attention on finding that water. It's still pretty dark out, so I can't really see. Although, my eyes have already adjusted to the darkness, so I can make out the different shapes. If only I had somebody to help me. No. What am I saying? I don't need help. I don't need an ally. I've managed to make it all the way through school without friends for the majority of it. So, I definitely can make it all the way through this arena without talking to anybody. But, I would like some sort of advice. Maybe Leon can send me down some kind of sign.

I continue walking, the freezing air whipping around through my clothes. I pull my arms closer to my chest. I'm shivering. My jacket hood is still over my head. I rub my gloves together for warmth. I've seen an arena like this one in the past. Most of the tributes died of hypothermia. I don't want that to happen to me. I'm determined to make sure that does not happen to me.

I come to a stop in front of a lake. To my surprise, but not really, it's frozen over. I kneel down on the bank and tap the ice. Definitely frozen solid. If only they had chosen a different arena this year. But no. Of course I get the year where we're sent to battle it out in the cold.

By now, the sun is starting to rise. It's not up in the sky yet, but still, I can see the warm rays peeking out from the behind the trees. I turn my head back to the lake. Maybe I can try breaking the ice. Yes! I _can_ try to break the ice. I pull my spear closer and place the tip over the frozen water. I tap at it before plunging my spear into the ice. Luckily, it was enough because there is now a little hole in the lake. Immediately, I take out the water bottle, dunking it into the water. I see the bottle fill up instantly. I pull it out and pour drops of iodine into the water, cleansing it of any possible bacteria. I then seal the bottle with the cap and place it back in my pack. I'm going to have to wait a while for the iodine to take full effect, but at least I have water. I stand back up, dusting the snow off of my legs. I sling the backpack over my shoulder and with my spear in hand, I start walking off into the forest.

**Author's Notes:** So the Games have begun! *sigh* Finally finished this chapter. To be clear, there are twelve people dead and twelve people alive. Sorry if it took a little long. I got a lot of school work to do. Anyway, the next chapter will probably be up by the end of the week. Maybe earlier if I have time. Thanks for reading! :D


	10. Chapter Ten: Battle Royale

**Chapter Ten: Battle Royale**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hunger Games. The ideas for this story are all from the imagination of Suzanne Collins.

Linnet Easton's POV

I wake up in a tree. I'm sitting on a strong, sturdy branch, my back against the tree trunk. The sleeping bag from my backpack is spread out over my legs. My arms are crossed close to my chest and the jacket hood is still over my head. I readjust my position to grab my pack from the branch dangling above the one I'm resting on. I roll up the sleeping bag and stuff it back into the pack. I take off my hood and undo my hair, letting my brown locks roll down over my shoulders. I then tie it back in a low ponytail.

I sling the backpack over my shoulders and jump down from the tree. I make sure to tuck me legs in so I can distribute the impact. I put my hands out in front of me to steady myself. Luckily, the snow is soft enough, so I don't damage my hands.

The sun is sleepily rising from the sky. Soon, the cold mountain air will be replaced with a little warmth. I dust off my gloves and start walking. I reach into my pack and bring out the bag full of dried fruit. The Capitol fills all of the backpacks with the same standard items necessary for survival. I start nibbling on the fruit, careful to save enough for later. After a while, I begin to feel thirsty. I bring out my water bottle and pour the cool liquid down my throat. Before I had gone to sleep last night, I had packed snow into the bottle. Snow is basically water, so I figured I might as well utilize it. Surprisingly, most of it melted while inside my backpack. I know it might not be the safest method for getting water, I mean the Capitol could in turn intentionally contaminate the snow, but what else am I to do?

I come to a stop in the middle of a clearing. The sun is higher in the sky now, so it's a little brighter than earlier. I reach to put my bottle back into my pack. Once I am done, I can't help but get the feeling somebody is watching me. I stand perfectly still and listen. All I hear is the wind blowing gently through the trees. But then, I see movement. My back straightens as I stare forward. It's dead quiet. I wait.

Suddenly, a boy pops out from behind a tree. I can't remember what district he's from, which is weird because I usually would know. I watch him as he approaches me. He's holding two knives in both of his hands.

A light bulb goes off in my head. "District Twelve!" I exclaim, snapping my fingers.

He narrows his eyes at me, "What's it to you Five?"

"Nothing," I say, suddenly getting defensive.

"Really? You didn't kill anybody lately?" he sneers.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I demand.

"Like you don't know," he says, coming to a stop a few inches from where I stand.

I examine the boy. I vaguely remember him. His name is Baem. He has long brown hair and grey eyes, a standard District Twelve look. I try to search his facial expression to find out what I did wrong. I certainly did not kill anybody. So why is he accusing me of a crime I didn't commit? And why does he care so much? Unless, of course I did kill someone and that person happened to be someone he knew. Oh. That's right. The girl from District Twelve, his district partner. But I didn't kill her. Sure I cut up her face, but I definitely know I did not kill her. And yet, her picture had been in the sky last night. I think he believes I had something to do with her death.

"Look Baem," I say. He looks surprised I even know his name. "I never killed _anybody._ I think you've got the wrong idea because I didn't kill your district partner."

He shakes his head and points an accusing finger at me, "I saw you. You punched her in the face. And then when you were done beating her up, you ran away. She never got back up."

Now I shake my head, "You don't understand. There's no way I could have killed her with just blows to the face."

"Then how come Onyx was in the sky last night?"

Onyx. That was her name. I purse my lips together tightly. "Somebody must have finished her off. Did you not check to see if she was okay?"

"No," he admits shyly. But then, he temper flares up again. "I'd just assumed she was dead. So, I followed you up here."

"And what do you hope to accomplish, Baem?" I ask him smugly.

Suddenly, he lunges forward and a sharp pain starts to grow in my right shoulder. I look down; he just stabbed me, for there's a knife sticking out of my skin. Now he stands a little closer with only one knife in his hand. He looks stunned. Like he can't believe that he'd just done that.

I pull out the knife, trying to mask the pain. Instantly, blood starts to spill out of the wound and down my arm. I drop my backpack and laugh, "Oh? Well since you stabbed me, I guess it's my turn to stab you."

I kick him in the chest, but all that does is send him a few feet back. I stalk over to him, a wicked smile across my face. He looks terrified. I reach to grab his shoulder, but he only dodges. "Why are you running away? I'm just trying to be fair," I coo.

He makes a step to try to run, but I grab him by his hair. I yank on it, pulling him backwards. He falls to the ground. I put my foot on his chest to keep him from escaping. Surprisingly, I feel like the stronger person in this fight. I'm at least fifteen pounds heavier than him. One of the benefits in growing up in a district closer to the Capitol: we at least have food. It's not abundance, but it's enough to keep our stomachs from growling. I loom over him in a triumphant stance. I see him try to stab me in the leg, but I swipe the knife out of his hand. I kneel down on his chest, forcing all of my body weight forward. "Now, are you going to apologize?"

"Fuck off bitch!" he spits. Somehow, he manages to knock the now bloody knife out of my hand.

"Is that a way to talk to a lady?"

His legs move under me and suddenly I'm flying backwards. He'd just kicked me. I see him scrambling over to the knives. I stand up and try to reach them before he does. His hand wraps around the blood stained knife, but I step down on it. Hard. He pulls his hand out from under my boot, wincing in pain. I pick up the knife and go back over to him. He's trying to get back on his feet, but I shove him down. Then, I get back on top of him, this time holding his arms down with my boots.

"Get off of me," he growls.

"I don't think so," I retort, bringing the knife in front of his face.

His eyes narrow, "What are you going to do to me? Kill me? Go ahead. Be known as the girl who killed the tributes of District Twelve."

"I'd hate to be the one to inform you, Baem, but this…." I say, stabbing him in the chest. "…is the Hunger Games." I pull the blade out from his abdomen and start plunging my knife repeatedly into his heart.

xXx

I sit in the snow, completely still, the knife still clenched in my hand. Baem's blood stains my hands, so I rub them into the snow. I look at his body, cold and lifeless. I can't believe I actually killed him. The cannon went off a couple of minutes ago, so now the Gamemakers are waiting for me to clear the area.

Slowly, I stand up. My legs are shaking. I walk over to the other knife and pick it up. I clasp my hands around my new weapons. I now have something to defend myself with. I scoop up my backpack, throwing it over one of my shoulders. I start walking.

It's only then when the pain in my shoulder starts to grow. I clutch at it in agony. I'm surprised it only started hurting now. I guess the adrenaline must've stopped the pain temporarily during my little skirmish with Baem. Either way, it still hurts like a bitch. I unzip my jacket and move aside my shirt, revealing my wound. There is a deep gash in my skin. The blood is still pouring out of it. I press on the skin around the cut and wince. I stop and sit down, leaning against a bush. I grab a handful of snow in my gloves and press it against my shoulder. I shiver, but I'm sure it's helping.

After a while, I remove the snow and let the cold mountain air blow gently on the gash. I rest my head on the bush and moan in pain. I could really use a parachute right now.

I grit my teeth and tear off a piece of my white turtleneck. I then wrap the cloth around the wound, tying it in a neat knot to secure it to my shoulder. I move back my shirt and jacket and sigh. In the corner of my eye, I can see a small dark blue sphere. I turn to look at it more closely, only to find that I've been leaning against a berry bush. I examine the berries, assuming the worst: nightlock. Instantly, I scramble away from the bush. I glance up at the sky, "I'm not dying that easily."

I stare off in the distance for a while. The hovercraft should be coming to pick up Baem's body. I wait five minutes, but it never appears. That's odd. I stand back up and start walking in the direction I had come.

There's only one reason the hovercraft has not arrived. A tribute is still in the area. _Someone_ is still in the area. A cold shiver runs down my spine as I come to realize that person, whoever they may be, was watching me. I stop. Is it really a good idea to come face to face with the tribute? What if they are hostile?

But curiosity gets the better of me, so I continue walking.

Movement causes me to stop in my tracks. I crouch down behind a bush to get a closer look. My eyes almost pop out of my sockets. My breakfast threatens to make its reappearance, so I cover my mouth with my gloves. And there he is. Looming over Baem's body, stuffing his face with his innards, is the boy from District Six. All I can see in the white snow is his blood. And entrails. Lots and lots of entrails. The boy from District Six is literally eating Baem. I back away slowly. Since when was cannibalism ever a last resort?

I stand up quietly, but my knees pop. I bite down on my lip and turn on my heel, making a hasty departure. I don't care about all the noise I am making. I don't want to be devoured by this… this monster.

As I run, I can't help but remember him. He had been so calm during his interview with Caesar Flickerman. And during training, he didn't show any sign of insanity. Can only a day in the arena cause someone to go insane? But who am I to judge? I just murdered a boy in cold blood. What makes me so different from him? What am I saying? I'm _completely _different from him. I do not have cravings for human flesh. I run my hand through my hair as I stop to catch my breath. What was his name? I search my memory for the answer. It's… Titus. Yes of course. His name is Titus…

* * *

Omar Calhoun's POV

In late afternoon, I can't help but bring my mind to Linnet. Around seven this morning, the cannon had gone off. Could it have been for her? Time will only tell. Sometime around one o'clock, I finished the last of my food and now I'm starting to feel the effects of hunger. I roam around the snow covered forest, looking for something edible enough to eat. Sadly, I can't seem to find anything. I stop to rest against a tree trunk. Maybe I can try hunting. But who am I kidding? I can't hunt. I had forgotten to stop by that training station back in the Capitol. So now, I won't be able to obtain any form of meat during my time in the arena.

Suddenly, a crazy idea forms in my head. I'll just go to the Cornucopia and take some more food from a backpack. It sounds too perfect, but the Careers will most likely be guarding it. They always do. Of course when you grow up in a district with plenty of food to eat and a whole lot to spare you won't need to have any special skills that pertain to survival. Oh yes, it sure is great to not have to struggle to stay alive.

I start off in the direction of the Cornucopia. Hopefully they will not be there. There's still a bit of sunlight out, so there is a really good chance they are out hunting for some tributes to kill.

When I see the big golden horn, I crouch down and watch. It's empty. Nobody is there. I stand up and tiptoe forward. It's so quiet that I can't help but think this is a trap. Why would the Careers just leave their camp unattended? I'm completely on edge as I slowly move forward. Beneath my feet, the snow squishes. It's the only sound I can hear. I'm sure they can hear it too. Yes, I know they are hiding somewhere. Probably behind that bush over there. Or behind that tree right there. Or even inside the Cornucopia itself.

I grip my spear tightly as I approach the mouth of the golden horn. I peer inside, my heart beating rapidly. I'm sure it's about to burst out of my chest at any moment. And then, nothing. My heart rate slows as I find only backpacks, weapons, tents, and best of all, no Careers. They must have gone off hunting. This is very fortunate for me. I rush over to a backpack. I shouldn't get too excited. They can still return at any given moment. I unzip the pack quickly and dig inside until I find two bags and a water bottle. I stuff them inside my own pack before deciding it's enough. As soon as I have my backpack slung over my shoulders, I take off. I still can't shake the feeling that somebody is watching me. But, I try my best to ignore it.

I come to a stop fifteen minutes later. I bring out my water bottle and down the last drops. I guess I should go back to the lake. I head off in the general direction I believe the lake should be. I walk for a couple of minutes until I find it. The hole from this morning is still there. I kneel down on the bank, take off my backpack and start dunking my two water bottles into the ice. After they are full, I pour in the iodine drops and shove them back into my pack.

Suddenly, two figures appear on the other side of the lake. I recognize them instantly. They are the boy from Four, Pike, and the girl from Two, Athena. They both wield wicked looking weapons. In Pike's hand is a large machete. In Athena's hand is a sharp looking spear. I stare at them, waiting for their first move. Pike steps on the ice first. He makes the mistake of trying to run across the lake, so he only achieves in slipping and falling on his ass. I grin, but only for a moment because now Athena's coming after me. At least she has some intuition, for she's making her way around the lake, walking on the bank rather than the ice. She reaches me in no time at all. I bring my spear out in front of me, ready to attack her. She does not hesitate when she approaches. Her spear is hurling towards me, but I knock it aside. Now she has no weapon. But right as I decide I have some kind of advantage over her, she brings out her knives. She does not throw them though. Instead, she tackles me with unnatural strength.

I kick her off of me and onto the lake. I see Pike still scrambling around on the ice, trying to regain his footing. This makes me laugh, but only for a second. Athena is now fuming. She throws one of her knives at me with full force. I dodge quickly. And then, with my spear clenched in my hand, I march over to her. I plunge it downwards, but she rolls to the side, so all I've accomplished in doing was making another hole in the lake. I skid towards her with the tip of the spear pointed at her chest. She brings out another knife and hurls them at me. One nicks me in the ear. I glare at her as I swing my spear towards her body. To my surprise, I slice her across the stomach. She clutches it in pain with her left hand. With her right, she throws another knife. I sidestep with ease and approach her triumphantly. That was my mistake. She's a Career. Why did I expect her to go down so easily?

Athena brings out another knife and stabs me in the thigh. I cry out in pain before grabbing her by the hair and slamming her head down on the ice. Her hands wrap around my arm like a vice. Her nails cling onto my jacket sleeve. How is this possible? She has fingerless gloves. I'm very fortunate I'm not wearing anything short-sleeved, or else she would've left long scratch marks that would've drawn blood. I pull out the knife from my thigh and toss it aside. Then, I slam her head down again. This time I hear a crack. At first, I think it's the sound of her skull shattering. But then I realize the ice is breaking. Athena's eyes widen in horror as I slam her head down one last time. It's enough. The ice gives way and the two of us fall into the lake.

It feels like thousands of knives are stabbing me all over. I can't find the bottom of the lake. This scares me. I cling onto Athena for security. But she has her own problems. She can't swim. And neither can I. I push down on her head so I can get a boost in reaching the surface. I can't hold my breath for that long. I gasp for air and grab onto the ice, trying to pull myself up. I see Pike staring at me from the bank of the lake. It seems he finally found out how to maneuver around the ice. He is wide-eyed. "Athena!" he calls.

Then, I am being dragged beneath the water once again. Athena steps on my head as she tries to swim to the surface. But, I wrap my arms around her waist, trying to keep her under so she can drown. She kicks me in the face so I can let her go. But I do not. I persist in keeping my grip on her. She then knees me in the nose. I let go reluctantly. Mostly because I now need air. The two of us reach the surface at the same time. She's screaming now, "Pike! Pike get over here! Come and help me!"

I squeeze the bridge of my nose in agony. "You come over here and I'll drag you into the water too," I threaten him.

To my surprise, Pike does not move. Typical Career. Of course he won't help her. He's going to let me kill her. Obviously he knows the urgency of the situation. But this is an opportunity to have one less tribute in his way to victory die. He probably figures it's better to have her die at the hands of another now rather than battling her one-on-one later.

I grab onto Athena's hair and drag her back down beneath the water. She's thrashing around, trying to have me release her. I yank harder on her hair before wrapping my hands around her neck. She's screaming now. Although, I can't hear it. But I know. Her mouth is wide open and little bubbles are floating to the surface. I squeeze her neck tighter. Her hands try to pry mine off of her neck. But I will not budge. Eventually, she gives up. Now she's clawing at the water above her. It's as if she's trying so desperately to get air. She probably is. I need to breathe as well, but I will not give her that satisfaction. I squeeze her neck even harder until I feel her go limp. I think maybe a cannon went off, but I'll never know. She might not be dead yet. I decide to drag her body to the surface. I'm not going to let her sink to the bottom of the lake where the Gamemakers may never find her. I'm not that cruel. She at least deserves a proper burial.

I reach the surface, gasping for air. I suck in as much oxygen as I can. Athena's body is still in my arm. I shove her onto the ice before hoisting myself up. It's freezing out here. I shiver as I peer down on her face. She looks surprisingly peaceful. Her cheeks are red and her lips are purple. I can see my finger marks on her neck. Her wet hair is spread out around her head like a fan.

I see movement in my peripheral vision. I look up and see Pike still standing there. His facial expression is complete shock. Like he's surprised I killed her.

"I suggest you run along Four. Unless you want to be next," I warn him.

He does not need to be told twice. He takes off running.

I stare at Athena one last time before leaving her on the ice. I go to the bank where my stuff still lies. I'm freezing cold and I'm sure I'll be frozen solid if I do not get warm fast. I look for my spear, but then I realize I must have lost it in the water. However, Athena had a spear and I don't think she'll be using it any time soon. I pick it up, deciding it's the perfect replacement for my lost weapon. I then scoop up the four knives she had thrown at me. After slinging my pack around my shoulders, I start limping off.

I need to put something warm on or I'll get hypothermia. The pain in my thigh starts growing. I slump down in the snow in pain. I clutch my wound, why the hell did she have to stab me. I look up to the sky. The hovercraft is there, pulling up Athena's body. It'll be taken back to the Capitol where they'll clean it up before sending it back to her parents in District Two. I almost feel bad for them. Almost.

**Author's Notes:** So what do you think? I'd like to know. I'm going to try my best to keep the graphic details of Titus' kills to a minimum. It's a little nasty, so yeah… Thanks for reading! :D Remember to comment, follow, favorite, et cetera… Á bientôt!


	11. Chapter Eleven: Gifts from the Capitol

**Chapter Eleven: Gifts from the Capitol**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hunger Games. The ideas for this story are all from the imagination of Suzanne Collins.

Linnet Easton's POV

The same tree I had been sleeping on the night before is just in front of me. I do not know how I will get up to that high branch. My shoulder wound hinders this simple task. But, I grit my teeth and force myself to endure the pain. I push my backpack up on the highest branch I can reach with left arm. And then I grab onto the lowest branch with both of my hands. As my right arm stretches, I can practically feel the knife in my shoulder again. A moan of pain escapes from my lips. I bit down on my cheek and start pulling myself up. I get myself onto the branch, but I still have a long way to go. I soon get into a rhythm. I shove my foot into one of the holds and reach up for the next branch and vice versa. Eventually I reach my backpack. I'm shaking rapidly and sweat is rolling down my face. I force myself to climb to the next branch. It's a lot of effort, but I manage. I collapse against the tree trunk, tears running down my face. I don't want to look at my wound, but I need to see the state it is in. I move my jacket and my sleeves aside. The make-shift bandage is soaking with blood. I tear it off, revealing the gash. I wince. It's bad. The skin is festering. I rip another piece of my turtleneck to use as a replacement bandage. I wrap it around my shoulder and tie it tightly.

The anthem begins to play, so I adjust my position to get a better view of the dead tributes. Once the music it over, the first portrait appears. It's the girl from District Two, Athena, as I can remember. This surprises me. A Career already dead? Usually they last longer than two days. Especially a tribute from District Two. Isn't training for the Hunger Games their specialty? No. It's one of them. The district's main contribution to Panem is masonry, like stonecutting. But still. The tributes of Two are amongst the last to die. Most of the time they are at the end, battling the remaining tribute for the victor title. The next tribute is the girl from District Seven. I don't think I ever learned her name. Or else I would've remembered it. After her is the Baem. I stare at his face, nothing but annoyance on my face. It's his fault I'm in so much pain. I didn't want to kill him, but he left me no other choice. The anthem plays one last time before ending with an image of the Capitol seal. Then, the night sky returns to its normalcy.

I pull out the sleeping bag from my pack and spread it over my legs because I can't necessarily sleep inside of it. I put my pack behind my back because I cannot bear to lift my arms up, attempting to hook the straps on the branch above.

Sleep does not come to me right away, so I sit in the darkness, the cold air blowing at my face. My mind starts to drift into its natural imagination state. This happens all the time when I am alone. Alone. This is the first time I've been alone for a long time. Most of the time I have people around. People who can offer some sort of security. Some sort of conversation. I'm socially deprived in this arena. I'd thought an alliance would solve that problem I so anxiously did not want to encounter. But Telsa is dead. Murdered in the initial bloodbath. So now I have no one to converse with. It's odd. For years I've always had people around me. And solitude only lasted for a couple of minutes at length, not including the eight hours of sleep where one has to be alone. I don't know how these tributes can do it. I'll go insane if I don't have anyone to talk to. That skirmish with Baem only put the problem on hold. Now, I am left alone with my thoughts.

I feel completely disgusting. My breath is rancid and smells like nothing but dried fruit. Earlier today, I had finished the last of it, so all I have left is the bag of jerky. When was the last time I had brushed my teeth? Two days ago. Yes. Two days ago I had been in the Capitol. Enjoying the lavish lifestyle. Eating the delicious foods. Now I'm on a mountain, fighting against the tributes as well as hunger for victory.

Tomorrow I should explore more. I shouldn't confine myself to just these inclined slopes. I'm sure my breathing will be different. The air in the mountains is different from the air on the forest floor. For instance, the intake of oxygen in the mountains is faster. So if I were to run through the forest my stamina will have been increased. And I'll be able to run a lot longer at my fastest speed. This is one of the benefits. But of course I still have my injury to add into the equation. This would not be a problem if someone would send down a sponsor gift. But of course that won't happen. My mentors said most of the sponsors this year will be lined up at Pearl Vuitton's door. But still. That doesn't mean all of them will be. Leon did say he'd help me in any way possible. He'd promised my father.

My father. I stare down at his ring. I wonder how exactly they met. Leon was pretty vague on that idea. Could they have been schoolmates? Maybe. I do the math in my head. But somehow it doesn't add up. Leon was seventeen when he had won his Games. My parents were eighteen when I had been conceived during the _51__st _Games. So Leon would have been three years younger than my father. Their friendship as schoolmates is very unlikely. Possibly they met in town. That would be the most logical conclusion.

I close my eyes, feeling utterly tired.

xXx

I am stirred from my slumbers when the sound of footsteps in the snow fills my ears. My eyes blink open as I stare out into the darkness. I peer down beneath my tree. Five dark figures stand there. The Careers. My eyes adjust to the unnatural darkness, distinguishing between the lighter and darker shadows. I can see a larger figure. I can only guess that it is Argus. He is standing in the front of the pack, two large and sharp swords in his hands. Behind him are the two seventeen year olds from District Four: Pike and Marina. Pike wields a machete while Marina clutches an axe. Behind them is Nicholas from Two. He holds a mace close to his chest. And finally, trailing along at the back is Pearl. She's wielding throwing knives, but she looks so meek that I can't help but laugh. Of course not out loud. That'll only draw attention to myself and then where would I be? Dead for certain. She is so close to my tree though. So close that I can jump down and stab her to death with my knives. I contemplate that idea for a moment. Then think better of it. If I were to somehow jump down from my branch and onto her without making any noise, I'd be fine. But what about the cannon? It'll go off and the rest of her pack will spot me. I'll be dead on sight.

I don't know whose voice it is, but it is definitely masculine, "Where to now?"

Another voice, also masculine but less deep, speaks up, "Look at the footprints. We keep following them until we find who they belong to."

Footprints? Oh. I'm so stupid! Why didn't I realize this before? Our footprints are imprinted into the snow! Anyone with a brain could track us down. Follow our prints until they stop. And then, that tribute would be dead. I could be dead! I watch as the Careers walk away from my tree. One of them mumbles something about hurrying up before the sun rises.

Why are they leaving? Could they not see my footprints? Surely they did. They must have seen me. No doubt my location has been discovered. I'm sure they're going to wait until I climb down from the tree to kill me. I can see them now. Hiding behind those bushes. Waiting for the moment my boots touch the ground. Yes. As soon as that happens they'll ambush me. The four of them will hold down my limbs while Pearl stabs out my eyeballs and slits my throat. I'm not going down there. I'm not going to die like this. This will not be the end of me. I don't want to die. I'm sure nobody really does. But I'm determined. I'll… I'll go out fighting. I'll kill them all. Yes. I'll kill every one of them. I'll stab them repeatedly in the chest. I'll gauge out their eyeballs. I'll… I'll… wait. What am I thinking? Be more rational Linnet. They might not have seen me. I'll just wait for five minutes. Yes. Five minutes and then I'll go down. If they don't return or I don't chicken out, I'll climb down from my tree.

Why did they pick _this_ arena? Why not the desert? Or the jungle? Anything would be better than this arena. It's horrible. Absolutely horrible. We'll be dead within a couple of days with the footprints left in the snow, revealing everyone's locations. I put my head in my hands, fearing the worst.

Something drops in my lap. I remove my gloved hands to see a parachute. Tied to it is a circular tube. It's small, but I can only guess what's inside. I unscrew the lid and look inside. Medicine. I take off one of my gloves, exposing my small, dainty hand. I dip my finger inside, scooping up a small amount of the slimy stuff. With my other hand, I push aside my jacket and my shirt sleeves. I undo the make-shift bandage. Then, I take my other hand and start massaging the medicine onto my wound. It feels surprisingly good. When I am done, I tear off a new piece of my shirt and tie it around the gash. I put my glove back on. And then, I push back my shirt sleeves and jacket, feeling a whole lot better. I reach for my pack. I'll save the rest for later. It's only when I'm putting the tube into my bag that I notice the note. It's attached to the parachute. I tear it off and read it to myself:

_Use this on the knife injury._

_-Leon_

_P.S. Please don't kill your sister._

I stare at the note. What is he talking about? I'm not going to kill my sister. Amber is fine, I'm sure. She's safe back home in District Five. There's no way I would ever think about killing her. Could my actions in the arena put her in harm's way? No. That doesn't make any sense. I haven't done anything that would anger the Capitol. So what is this note implying?

My hands start to tremble and my heart starts to beat faster. There is only one person that I've even considered killing. One person, one girl, who I've vowed to murder. That I promised would be dead at my feet by the end of this. And now Leon's telling me she is my sister. That… that can't be possible.

My brain starts to go into overdrive. Connecting the dots. I'm fifteen years old. I was born on April 19th. Let's see, nine months back would be around July 19th, one week after the conclusion of the 51st Hunger Games. I remember my mother's stories about the Capitol. My grandfather was the Head Peacekeeper of District Five. She told me about the year he was invited to the Capitol to view the Games firsthand, a last present to him for his retirement. She said she got to come along with him as a guest. Somehow… she must've…met _him_. That would be the only logical explanation. I swallow the lump in my throat forcefully, looking at the ring: _to my daughter_. Leon never said my father was the man back home in District Five. Hell. He never said he was even _from_ District Five. So if what he claims is true, I really am the older sister of Pearl.

I glance up at the sky. I'm sure Leon's watching me now from the live camera feed, probably smiling at my revelation. And of course my father's watching too. My father, Clay Vuitton, victor of the 51st Hunger Games.

* * *

Omar Calhoun's POV

In late afternoon of my third day in the arena, I collapse against a nearby tree trunk. I don't feel tired at all. But I have an excruciating headache and I'm shivering rapidly. My clothes will not dry. Since my fight with Athena yesterday, I've been walking around in soaking wet clothes. There is no longer water dripping off of it, but I am drenched. How can anything get dry in a climate like this? I had thought about taking it off and setting it out in the sun, but then my body would freeze. Not to mention I've got a knife wound in my thigh. It causes me to walk with a limp. Earlier this morning, I'd finished off my first water bottle and my new bag of fruit. So, tomorrow, I'm going to have to restock my supplies.

Last night when the Capitol anthem had been playing in the sky, it was revealed that three people had died yesterday. I'm surprised. Linnet is still managing to stay alive, despite my previous doubts about her. I'm sure she's up in some tree somewhere, fighting starvation. Ha. That's a thought. In a matter of days, I know she'll be dead. There is no way she can hold out that long. Some tribute will probably kill her. Mostly likely the Careers.

I go through the remaining tributes in my head. Pearl and Argus from District One. Nicholas from Two. Marina and Pike from District Four. Linnet and I. The boy from Six. The boy from Ten. And the boy from Eleven. Wow. Within the next few days, most of them will be dead. I smile at that thought.

I force myself to stand back up and continue my trek though the snowy forest. For the rest of the day, I do nothing but travel through the trees. I don't run into anybody. Which is a disappointment. I actually yearn to kill. It's a crazy thought, but the lack of action is bothering me so much. Unfortunately, that does not happen.

It's dark now, so I set up camp in a nearby bush. I practically throw my body onto the shrubbery. I'm exhausted, which is weird because I haven't done anything all day. My migraine and the shivering only seemed to increase. I turn myself over so I can get a better view of the sky. I don't think I heard any cannons today. But I could be wrong. Maybe I had been asleep when the death of one of my fellow tributes occurred.

I lie like this for a long time. And then, the Capitol seal appears. It's accompanied with the national anthem. I wait for it to stop, so I can see who the deceased are. The seal vanishes and the sky returns to black. I guess nobody died. That won't be good for us. The Capitol viewers will be bored. And to peak their interests, the Gamemakers will probably brew up some kind of horrible concoction. Yes I definitely sure of it. I'll bet my buttons it'll come into play sometime tomorrow. For now, I need to sleep…

xXx

A long blood-curdling scream sounds throughout the forest. I jolt awake, utterly confused. What's going on? The scream echoes through the trees once again. I'm sure that concoction is here. I stand up, my legs wobbling. I don't think I slept on them right because they are still asleep and numb. I brace myself against a tree close by and look around. I'm standing in the middle of a snowstorm. The rapid winds swirl around me; the little particles of snow hitting me in the face.

The cannon has not gone off yet, so whoever is screaming is still alive. I clutch my head in pain and secure my pack around my shoulders. How can anyone see in this blizzard? I push off on the tree trunk and start walking, testing my legs. The tingling sensation does nothing to help my trek. My legs wobble, but I persist in trying to walk.

The scream echoes again. Who the hell is that? And what's causing them to scream?

As my legs begin to wake up, the tingling sensation disappears. I hold my spear tightly in my hand. Whatever it is, I'll be ready to fight. I'm still shaking. And the snowstorm only makes it worse. I'm still drenched, but I couldn't get dry even if I wanted to. My feet squish in my boots. Every step I take feels like water is being squeezed from my socks.

Suddenly, a figure bursts forward from out of the white storm. They don't seem to notice me. But I certainly notice them. There appears to be deep lash marks on their arms and legs and back. I can see their skin, all red and tender looking. I don't know who it is, but I can see it is a boy. What caused this to him? I have no clue. But I know it must be dangerous. What can possibly leave marks like that? He turns towards me and I catch a glimpse of his face. I recognize him: the boy from District Ten. The worst part? There are lash marks on his face as well. They run very deep. I cringe, for I can see what looks like bone.

He glances at me before taking off. I turn away; I don't want to look at this grizzly being. I then start running in the direction he went. Whatever whipped him is back there. And I certainly do not want to face the monster. I stumble ahead in the snow. My lips tremble and my teeth chatter. It's so cold. Way colder than it had been. I'm sure the Capitol is eager for a few deaths today. But I am determined to not be one of them.

I see something crouching on the ground up ahead. I squint to get a better look at it. As I approach, I can see that it is the boy from Ten. He has collapsed and is now clutching his face. He moans in pain. But he is not screaming. I loom over him, my spear clenched in my gloved fist. I'm contemplating the idea of ending his life. I can't bear to hear him squirm in pain. No one should be allowed to suffer.

Before I make up my mind, something swoops down and starts gnawing on his face. I stumble backwards and land on my ass in the snow. A big black winged figure is eating his face. It has a beak but its face looks disturbingly human. I slowly start to get up. I hope it is too busy feasting on that poor tributes face to even pay me any attention. I stand up and back away. I can see what gave him the lashes. The winged-beast is holding a whip. My eyes widen in horror as the cannon goes off and the beast turns toward me. I start running. Fast. I can hear it behind me. I'm panicking. I don't know where I'm going. I run left. But then end up turning right. The blizzard offers no help. If anything, it makes the situation worse. I'm sure the Gamemakers are laughing in their chairs at their creation. They probably figured the beast would be more effective in a snowstorm.

Suddenly, I collapse in pain. My foot hurts badly. I drag myself into a nearby bush and groan. My eyes are filling with tears. Did the winged-beast whip me? I don't think so. I pull off my boots and take off my socks. My feet look swollen. It feels like a thousand little needles are stabbing me all over. My feet are an odd whitish-grey color. The discolor makes want to vomit. I look up to see if the winged-beast is hovering above me. Luckily, it is not. I look back at my feet. I don't know what's wrong with them, but I know it is bad. I don't think it would be the best idea to put my socks and shoes back on. But what else am I to do?

Another cannon goes off in the distance. And I wonder who is dead.

**Author's Notes:** Okay I'm sure this chapter was a little short, but I need to drag the Games out a little more. As always thank you for reading. Tell me what you think; I'd really like to know. Oh and can you guess what's wrong with Omar's feet? I'll give you a hint: it happens to be associated with WW1… ;D


	12. Chapter Twelve: Let Them Laugh

**Chapter Twelve: Let Them Laugh**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hunger Games. The ideas for this story are all from the imagination of Suzanne Collins.

Linnet Easton's POV

It's my fourth day in the arena. And this morning I woke up to the sound of a cannon going off. Sometime during the earlier hours of the morning, a snow storm had started because now a layer of snow has fallen onto my sleeping bag and my chest. It doesn't look like it'll be ending anytime soon. I'm resting on the same tree I've been sleeping on for the past three days. My shoulder wound is starting to heal at a remarkable pace. I can now climb up the tree without much pain. I'm thankful for Leon's help. But why did he have to send me that note? Couldn't he just have let me kill Pearl? It would have been way easier just to have that bit of information hidden. Now, I don't even have a desire to see her dead. Knowing that she's my… _sister._ But she's going to have to die if I am to win. Win. That's a concept I never really thought about. There was every doubt in my mind. I knew I would die as soon as Tremaine Goldstein had called my name at the Reaping. But now… now I'm not so sure. I have a chance. A one-to-nine shot. I could be coming home.

I reach up for my backpack and finish off the last of my jerky. Now, I have no food. I'm going to have to look for something to eat. This is the _Hunger_ Games. Starvation is one of the main ways tributes die in the arena. I roll up my sleeping bag and stuff it into the pack. Once I'm done, I secure it around my shoulders and hop down off of my branch. The fall is a little long. I land feet first which I find out is a bad idea. I should've tucked and rolled, but I wasn't thinking straight. I try to walk it off, but this only seems to reveal the state of my ankle. I'm sure it's not broken, but now I have a limp in my left leg. Possibly it'll fade.

I continue walking, checking the bushes to see if there are any berries. No luck. I reach for the two knives I had stolen from Baem. Could it be possible the only reason I even got medicine was because I had killed somebody? No, no, no, no. I'm sure someone must have felt bad for me.

Up ahead, movement in a bush causes me to become cautious. I clutch the knives tightly in my fists, ready for a possible fight. Yesterday after I had found out Pearl was my sister, I had refused to come down from my tree. I had lain there all day, so I don't know if the Careers are still hiding. It's most likely they weren't even there and I was just making a big deal out of nothing. And yet, here I am, standing on edge, goose-bumps running up and down my arms. I let out an exhausted sigh. I see my breath flowing around above me in the air. I lick my dry and undoubtedly cracked lips out of habit before continuing forward. I reach the bush and quickly check to see if anyone is there. Fortunately no. Thank God. But it's clear that someone had been sleeping here. The snow on the ground behind the bush looks out of order. Pushed around. Flattened. Judging by the way the camp seems to be, I'll bet that whoever had been sleeping here just left. Which means I'm near a possible murderer.

Who can it be? Not a Career that's for sure because it looks like one person had been here. And last time a checked, there were five of them.

Someone starts to scream and then a cannon goes off. I surge forward. I don't know what is going on inside my head, but I need to find out who's dead. I somehow manage to trip and fall into the snow, my hands outstretched to catch myself. I'm lying close to the ground, but I can see people running in the snow storm. It looks like four people. The Careers are the only ones to have an alliance that large. But what happened to the fifth? I see them turn left up ahead and it sounds like someone is crying.

A voice carries in the wind, "Where could he have gone? Did something grab him?"

Another one with a deep and very much masculine voice answers, "I don't know I wasn't looking. This damn snow storm's got me all confused."

A third voice pipes up and it sounds like they are in tears, "It's all my fault. I should have been watching him. He's my district partner for God sake!"

The final voice, "No Marina, it's not. If anything, it's all of ours. We're supposed to look out for each other."

"I guess you're right Pearl. I just wish it could have been me," Marina cries.

"No you don't" the deep voice growls. "I'm sure you haven't forgotten that we are in a fight-to-the-death situation and only one person can come out alive."

Marina sobs, "I know. But still… I just wish…"

She does not continue. Or that's as far as I know. I can no longer hear them. They've left and are out of earshot. I push myself up from the ground and slowly stand myself up. The two knives have fallen out of my hands and are now a couple of inches away from me in the snow. I slump over to my weapons before scooping them up. I then continue.

Now from what I've just overheard, I've gathered the notion that it was Pike who was killed. Marina feels guilty over his death. She mentioned that he was her district partner, so who else would it be if not him? That means eight people are now left in the arena. It's only been four days. Something tells me this will be over within the next few days. And since there are eight tributes left, the Feast should be coming soon. I wonder when the announcement will come.

The storm is still raging on. What are the Gamemakers trying to achieve with this blizzard? Do they want to bring us together? That's the most logical explanation. But also the stupidest. Why would they want to bring us together if we are only going to kill each other? Wouldn't they want to drag the Games out as long as possible? Four days is really short for the Hunger Games. Most of them last up to ten days. From what I've been told, the longest Games lasted up to two weeks. I guess the length really depends on the type of arena. Take this one for example. It's cold. It's windy. There's snow everywhere. Most tributes would die from hypothermia or something. There are also the footprints. That can give away your hiding spot. I am shocked to find myself still alive.

Suddenly, I hear electricity. Electricity? In the mountains? What's going on? I squint to try to see through the falling snow. I can't pin-point the exact location of the electrical shocks, but I know it is nearby. I hear it again and this time someone shouts out in defiance. The wind around me has started to pick up. The cold air whips me in the face, but I manage to stand my ground. How funny would that be if I were simply blown away? That would definitely be something for the Capitol audience to laugh about. I look up to the sky and can vaguely make out the shape of a hovercraft. I think I can see a body being lifted from the ground, but I'm sure that's my mind trying to fill in the blank space. Even if I can't see the body, I know that is the reason the hovercraft is there.

As soon as it is gone, the blizzard seems to settle down. I don't think the Gamemakers really cared about the transition because ten seconds later, the storm stops completely.

A new fresh blanket of white snow covers the ground. This is where I finally notice the inclination of the mountain. The trees in front of me are slanted. But it's most likely that it's just me. I turn my head up towards the mountain peak. From here, I realize I am way closer to the summit than I thought I was.

Someone coughs and I spin around. No one is there. I hear the cough again. I don't think it is someone trying to get my attention because the coughing turns into a fit. I slowly make my way forward, keeping as quiet as possible. And then I see him. Titus. A shiver runs down my spine. He's lying in the snow, a pile of blood and what looks like intestines are just to the left of him. He's on his back coughing like a tuberculosis patient. I wonder if he is wounded. I stop myself from going over to see if he is alright. Thank goodness I didn't because he props himself up. He looks perfectly fine. Well except for the fact he has blood all over his hands and face. I swallow forcefully as the reason for his state of being crosses my mind. Who was his victim? My eyes land on a wickedly sharp looking sword. It too has blood. I come to a conclusion it might have been Pike.

I step back, afraid to take off in a desperate heap to abandon the area. How he has not seen me is a question all on its own. Each footstep seems as if I were stepping across broken glass. I'm sure he'll notice me with all of the noise I am making. To my surprise, he does not. He looks as if he is still in a daze. As soon as I am far enough away, I turn around on my heel to walk forward.

"Don't think I didn't just see you Five because I did. You are very fortunate that I've eaten for today, but I don't guarantee I'll be able to say the same thing next time we meet. And believe me, we will meet again…"

I do not turn around to face him. I know that Titus is addressing me. I don't even bother to acknowledge that I've heard him. I start running. Behind me, I swear I can hear laughter.

* * *

Omar Calhoun's POV

I've be lying in the same bush I had fallen into for the past couple of hours. I didn't bring myself to even think about getting up. My feet are in a terrible condition. I'm soaking wet. I'm cold. My teeth are chattering. My lips are probably purple. It would be really nice for a sponsor gift right now. Maybe a nice warm pair of socks. Or even a whole new outfit to wear. Anything would be really nice right about now. Doesn't Leon see that I am in need? I suddenly get frustrated.

"Hey Leon! Aren't you supposed to be doing your job? I need new clothes," I shout up at the sky. I know he can hear me. But will he do anything about it? I wait a couple of minutes and nothing comes. What is he doing? There are eight tributes left in the fucking arena. I've made it two-thirds of the way to the finish. He should be trying his best to help me out so I can win. Does he want me to die? I thought that was why I chose him to be my mentor. He is supposed to be doing his best for me to come out alive. I wonder what Saffron is doing. Is she helping out Linnet? Hell! Is Linnet even still alive? I don't know who the second cannon belonged to, but every time I hear one, I assume it is for her. If she is dead, wouldn't it be in Saffron's best interest to help out her other tribute. I'm sure that's what Linnet would have wanted. I open my mouth again, this time addressing my other mentor, "Saffron. If you can hear me," which is stupid because I know she can, "_please _I'm begging you. Help me."

Nothing comes. I throw my hands in the air. If they don't want to help me, that's fine. But it'll be on their heads when I come back a victor and they'll have to face me every day, knowing they had refused to help me in the arena. I don't even think twice about putting my socks back on. They are soaked. I toss them away before jamming my feet into my boots. I stand up, collecting my spear and backpack. I reach inside the pack and feel around for one of Athena's knives. I bring it out just in case I have to go head-to-head against somebody. A spear will not be effective when a tribute is wrestling me to the ground.

I stomp away from the bush. The pain in my feet only seems to intensify. Maybe I should've kept the socks. I go back over to where I had thrown it, but sure enough, it is gone. I laugh out loud. I don't care if I seem crazy. The Capitol is probably laughing too. How funny it must be for my socks to suddenly disappear? The Gamemakers took them out because they knew I would come to realize I would need them. My laugh is nothing but fake. This will most likely get me some supporters. And since my mentors refuse to do anything about that, I'll have to take matters into my own hands. I'll appeal comical and the few Capitol citizens who have a strange sense of humor will send in money to Leon and Saffron. Then, the two of them will have to send me a gift.

A sudden though dawns on me. Am I really the villain of the arena? Every year, the Gamemakers play the Games as if it were some movie, some story. There are always the underdogs. They are mostly tributes from the outer districts. Sometimes they even come from Three, Five and Six. After them are the Careers. The Capitol is kind of split on what to make of them. They are always the favorites no doubt, but their portrayal in the Games themselves varies from year to year. Last year, they were the quote-on-quote "heroes." And that was because Finnick Odair was one of them. I'm sure this is the case this year. That girl from One, Pearl Vuitton is a former victor's child. She'll receive a lot of positive attention for sure. Of course after the favorites and the underdogs are the "villains." These tributes are usually never from one certain district. Sometime the villains are the Careers. But there are some other tributes whose acts don't really please the majority of the Capitol. I say majority because there are always the few citizens who actually like the diabolical tributes. The villains usually kill ruthlessly and without hesitation…

Ah shit. I am the villain. I can picture myself now. The camera zoomed in on my face for an extreme close-up. The music they play probably is something with an evil undertone. I roll my eyes. They can portray me in whatever way they want. When I win, they'll change the story. I'll be a gladiator. A fighter. A victor. I smile at this thought. And now, I don't even care if they are laughing at me.

For the rest of the day, it is relatively calm. No run-ins. I nibble on a few pieces of jerky. I down half of my water bottle and decide to head back to the lake (if I can find it) tonight. And then, the sound of trumpets playing fills the silence of the cold forest.

It's Claudius Templesmith's voice, "Congratulations remaining eight tributes on making it this far into the Games. As a token of my appreciation, I would like to invite all of you to the celebratory Feast. I hope to see all of you there this time tomorrow. Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favor!"

The Feast. That's right. Once it's down to a relatively small amount of tributes, the Capitol invites us all to a "feast." It's supposed to bring us together so we can murder each other. Most of the time there is food at the Feast. There have been certain occasions were the Gamemakers allowed the tributes to retrieve something they desperately needed. But I doubt that is the case this year. Damn it. I really could've used some new clothes. Anyway, the Feast is always at the Cornucopia. They set out a little table where they place the food. The amount varies each year. One year, the Gamemakers set out only one loaf of bread. That ended horribly. Half of the tributes were killed trying to get that small morsel. But at that point, most of them were starving, so I didn't really matter. I still have enough to eat, but it'll only last me until tomorrow. Which means I'm going to have to go to the Feast. I hope there are still backpacks. Maybe one of them contains clothes.

For the remainder of the day, I mope around in pain. My feet become unbearable. So not only do I need new clothes, but I also need medicine for my feet. I rest on the ground next to a tree and lean back on the trunk. I pull of my boots and examine the condition of my feet. If anything, they got worse. Both of my feet are severely swollen. The sensation of needles jabbing me from all over increased as well. I rub at the heel of my right foot. The skin is a bit rough. I try to make it clear I am in pain. Someone needs to feel bad for me. Do people really want to see a tribute is so much pain? That was a stupid question. Of course they do. It raises the stakes. The Capitol citizens eat this kind of shit up. I pound my fist into the snow in frustration. Why the fuck is this so damn hard?

I stay in this position for a while. I guess I'll have to head back to the lake tomorrow. I still have enough water in my bottle to last me for the rest of the night. After a while, the temperature plummets dramatically, so I pull out my sleeping bag and curl up inside. I'm completely exposed by just lying here on the ground by some random tree, but I don't really want to move. I do not put my boots back on. Instead, I allow my feet a bit of comfort inside the folds of my sleeping bag. Maybe they'll be able to dry during the night, so that in the morning I'll feel a little more comfortable.

Night fall arrives. The sound of the dark forest echoes throughout the trees. It is as if it's some kind of soundtrack playing in the background to my horrible dream. I don't know how long I sit with my back pressed up against that tree trunk. But eventually, the Capitol anthem and seal fill the night sky. I adjust myself only slightly for a better view.

The first tribute dead is the boy from District Four, Pike. I don't know what to think about that. My emotions are very mixed towards him. Although, he had been something to laugh at the day I had killed Athena. I can remember him slipping and falling on the ice. I chuckle to myself. After him is the boy from Ten. Not really surprised at seeing his portrait. I mean I did just see some winged-beast eat his face off only this morning. So that's always fun. No more tributes died today, so after his face disappears, the anthem finishes.

I reach into my pack and pull out a piece of jerky. I devour it in one bite.

Somewhere along the lines, I end up falling asleep.

**Author's Notes: **Wow! I'm sorry for such a long delay on my update. So instead of reading All Quiet on the Western Front, I decided to write this chapter. I mean it's been quite a while, but yeah… You know the saying "all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy." Comment if you know what movie that is from… And as always thank you for taking your time to read my story. Be sure to review, follow, favorite, blah blah blah. Next chapter to come! :P


	13. Chapter Thirteen: The Feast

**Chapter Thirteen: The Feast**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hunger Games. The ideas for this story are all from the imagination of Suzanne Collins.

Linnet Easton's POV

It's been five days. Only five days. In that time, we went from twenty-four to eight. I remember what Claudius Templesmith had said: _Congratulations remaining eight tributes on making it this far into the Games. As a token of my appreciation, I would like to invite all of you to the celebratory Feast. I hope to see all of you there this time tomorrow. Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favor!_ At this point, I have absolutely no food, so I kind of have to go to the Feast. I've been searching for something to eat all morning. And yet, nothing turns up. I'm sure I'm missing the big picture. There has to be something out here. My mind travels back to Day 2. I had stumbled across a berry bush. Correction: a _nightlock_ bush. With the constant grumbling from my stomach, the berries don't look so bad right now… I shake my head. What the hell am I thinking? I promised myself I wouldn't even dare. That option, the option of committing suicide, will never come up. I'm not going to kill myself. My last resort will not be eating those berries.

I put my hands behind my head as I shuffle along through the snow. How long until the Feast? Could it be possible that it started without me? Panic washes over me. The Feast is the only way I'll be able to obtain any food. I'm so unbelievably desperate that it's almost sad. I start off into a run down the mountain. But I'm going too fast. My feet are tumbling and I push myself into a tree. _Bad idea Linnet. You'll hands will get cut up for sure._ I stand myself up and start walking as quickly as I can. It's really odd to walk down an inclined slope. Each step I take feels as if I am about to take off into a roll. Eventually I get down the mountain without any injuries.

I come to a complete stop just outside the perimeter of the Cornucopia. The trees around here aren't enough to conceal anyone, but I stand back and watch.

The Feast already started! I have no time to think about my actions, so I surge forward into a blind free-for-all. To my right, I can see the boy from District Eleven. In front of me, on the other side of the Cornucopia are the Careers. Soon, the four of them reach the table. None of them take any food. Instead, they spread out around the table and guard it from oncoming tributes. Which means me and Eleven. I stumble backwards and turn around to escape a pursuit. I flinch when I hear a cannon go off. I have half a mind to think it is me, but that's ridiculous. I make the mistake of turning around. I see Eleven on the ground, sliding off the tip of Argus's sword. He is staring at the boy's body with a wicked grin on his lips. Nicholas, the boy from Two, points at me and says something to the others. Marina nods and the two of them chase after me. My eyes widen with fear as I force myself to run harder. I head off in the direction I had come. Which means I'm going back up the mountain. My stomach growls in hunger, so much for that food. _Why are you thinking about food now? Two fucking tributes are going to kill you for God's sake! Focus on running!_

The upwards sprint hurts my legs. My calves burn in agony and I get tired quickly. I think about stopping, but adrenaline sets in and I continue running with newfound energy. I hear their footsteps behind me. Someone starts screaming. Why? Why the hell is someone screaming? _Can you not hear yourself? It's you!_ I clutch my throat, feeling the vibrations from my vocal cords. I am the one who is screaming. I'm pathetic. I sound like a fucking horror movie victim. I wouldn't be surprised if I somehow manage to trip and fall. I'm helpless. I bet my death will only gain approval from the Capitol audiences. Some of them are probably shouting at their television screens, cheering on my pursuers. I remember my knives. But they are left in my backpack. _So stupid! Why did you put your only weapons away? I thought you were smarter Linnet. It's the Hunger Games! You should be expecting run-ins with tributes! _

I hear their laughter behind me. My screams have only increased in volume. I can hear my voice getting coarse, so I make myself stop. My backpack is making me slower. I toss it off to lighten my load. I am gasping for breath by now. I feel like giving up. So I do. I drop to the ground in exhaustion, tears starting to form in the corners of my eyes as the two tributes catch up to me. They are both tired, but the corners of their mouths turn up in devious smiles.

Nicholas drops to the ground, trying to catch his breath. His mace lands in the snow next to him. But Marina recovers faster. She clutches her ax tightly in her left hand. With her right, she grabs onto my collar and pulls me up with ease. She lifts me off of the ground; I'm so light that she only needs one hand to hold me up. She's still huffing from the run, but I can see that it won't stop her from killing me. She turns and looks at Nicholas, "Let me have this one."

"Yeah…Yeah go ahead…" he murmurs between breaths.

"Now," she turns towards me. "I can't believe such a frail thing like you made it this far. No matter," she throws me to the snow underneath and I land with a thud. She toys with her ax, "Let's make this quick."

* * *

Omar Calhoun's POV

I am sitting in the snow in the earlier hours of the morning. I know the Feast will be commencing shortly, so I stand up and dust myself off. I shoulder my pack and hold onto the shaft of my spear tightly. I inch forward. My feet are in unremarkable pain. While I was asleep, my feet managed to get dry underneath the fabric of my sleeping bag. They are still swollen. But they feel a tad bit better. I jam them into my boots. I don't think I have any more feeling in my left thigh. I still walk with a limp from the knife wound. So that's always fun. I don't want to look at where the blade entered my skin. I'm sure infection already set in. Add that to the list of problems I still have. I haven't managed to dry still. I think my clothes are frozen if that's even possible. I make my way out of the forest and into the Cornucopia. The table isn't even set up yet. I retreat back into the forest and sit down. All this pressure on my feet from walking makes it more unbearable. I drag myself behind a snow-covered bush and wait.

I see the ground open up and then the table rises. It clicks into place. My eyes inspect each piece of food. It's certainly not anything fancy. Nothing like the dinners back in the Capitol, but does it really have to be? There are three plates. Each holds something different. The first has a roasted turkey. The second holds three loaves of bread. The third: a pile of exotic fruits. My mouth waters and I lick my lips. I can almost taste the turkey in my mouth.

Above me, a bird lands on a nearby tree and starts to chirp at me. I jump before staring at it, confused that I was so startled by the creature. A couple of more birds land next to it. I turn away. Nothing to see there. Just a bunch of birds. Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. I focus my attention back on the Cornucopia only to see six tributes in a mad dash towards the table in the center of the clearing. The Careers reach the table first. Through my peripheral vision, I can see my district partner. I haven't seen her since the first day we entered the arena. She looks unchanged. A cannon goes off and my head snaps into the direction it came. I see the boy from One pulling his sword out of the boy from Eleven. He wipes the blood off in the snow, so now a red streak stains the white blanket. Suddenly, the boy from Two and the girl from Four chase after Linnet.

I turn my attention back on the Cornucopia. The tributes from One, Argus and Pearl, stand around the Feast table. They don't plan on abandoning the area anytime soon, so the body of the boy from Eleven lies there, face down and bleeding.

Someone starts to scream. I look in the direction Linnet had run off in. Something clenches my heart and I close my eyes. She's screaming because they are about to kill her. I reopen my eyes and stare at the birds on their little branch. They stare back at me, seeming to be giving me a look.

Before I know it, I am sprinting towards her screams. I'll hate myself for this later, but I can't just let her die. In regards to my injuries, my pace is a bit slower than usual. I mean I do have to run with a limp and terribly swollen feet. I realize I had been lying to myself the whole time. I kept saying I'd kill Linnet if I ever had the chance, but I know now that it is not true. There's something in the back of my mind telling me to help her, something tugging on my heart strings.

I follow the footprints up the mountain. The screams get louder. I know I'm getting closer. The inclination throws me off a bit, but I am determined to get to her. I lurch forward unexpectedly and fall into the snow. I push myself up and continue my chase. I hold my spear tightly as the screams stop. Is she dead? I don't hear a cannon yet. But then again, the Careers are always known for their theatrical kills. I can't say I can remember a year where they didn't monologue before murdering a tribute. I can barely make out the sound of laughter. Yep. They are definitely in monologue mode.

To the left, thrown against a tree, is a discarded backpack. Chances are it belongs to Linnet. I can hear voices up ahead. I'm getting closer. I grit my teeth and use every bit of energy I still have left in a final sprint. I see them. The girl from Four, Marina, has thrown Linnet to the ground. The boy from Two, Nicholas, is in the snow trying to catch his breath. I watch as Marina looms over my district partner. She passes her ax between both of her hands as she gloats. Linnet is in tears. She looks so frightened.

Anger fills me and I rush up to Marina from behind. I jab my spear through her chest and blood spits out from her wound. I see Nicholas on the ground scrambling to his feet. I pull my spear out of Marina's body and turn towards him. He's already running down the mountain. Why do I always end up killing the girls? Marina is in the snow, clutching the hole in her chest. She looks oddly surprised. She raises an eyebrow at me before spitting out blood. Her teeth are red now as she smiles, "So you're the boy who killed Athena?"

I glare at her before spotting the ax still in her hand. I reach down and yank it from her grasp. I fling it behind me, "Who else?" My tone is calm. I have no need to sound sarcastic.

Marina just tilts her head at me, "I'm not all that surprised you would be the one who'd end my life. Go ahead."

I look at her face. She's actually quite pretty. In a different world, I don't think I would bring myself to kill her. But I am not in a different world. So, I place the tip of my spear on her chest, right above her heart. I plunge down forcefully and the cannon goes off. I lick my cracked lips as I turn my attention to my district partner.

From my left, somebody wraps their arms around my chest. I'm shocked. I stand still as I try to register what's happening. Linnet is hugging me. I let my spear drop to the ground as I wrap my arms around her small torso. We stand in an embrace for a long time, the cold mountain air whipping through our hair.

**Author's Notes: **From now until the end of the Games, the chapters will be shorter than usual. I'm just trying my best to drag the Games out as long as I can. Anyway, thanks for reading!


	14. Chapter Fourteen: Together

**Chapter Fourteen: Together **

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hunger Games. The ideas for this story are all from the imagination of Suzanne Collins.

Linnet Easton's POV

When I finally am released from Omar's strong arms, I wipe my tear-filled eyes with the back of my gloved hand. I watch him as he bends down to pick up his spear. Then, I open my mouth to speak, "Um… Thank you. For saving me…"

He smiles sheepishly at me, "What are district partners for?"

I give him a small smile before looking down at the blood-stained spear in his hand. He pulls on the straps of his backpack, "So… Would you like to go get your pack? I saw it discarded against a tree back there."

I nod slowly, "Yes. That would be a really good idea."

Together, we start back down the mountain in silence. Omar takes the liberty of walking in front, since he does have a weapon to fend off any possible attackers. I follow closely behind him. Why did he come to my aide? Was a guilty conscience behind the drive for his rescue? Hell. Just last week he had no particular interest in me. In fact, I don't think the two of us had an actual conversation. So what changed? _You better get out of there Linnet. He's going to kill you. Just you wait. Why else would he save your life? He just wants to murder you himself._

I bite my bottom lip, forcing those thoughts out of my mind. As we continue forward, I stare at the back of Omar's head. He's taller than me, so I have to tilt my head to get a better look. This is where I notice the strangeness of his stride. I see it almost immediately. He's limping. He forces all of his weight onto his right leg. So, he must have gotten some kind of injury in his left leg somewhere. I wonder if Leon or Saffron had sent him any medicine.

"What happened?"

He turns his head so he can look at me over his shoulder. "What do you mean?"

"Your leg. The left one," I point out.

"Ah. I should've known you would've picked up on that sooner rather than later," I can see his shoulders moving up and down: he's laughing. He then shrugs, "It's an injury from my little quarrel with Athena. She, uh, got me in the thigh with her knife."

"Oh."

"I've been walking around like a zombie with this wound since Day 2," he admits.

So he didn't receive a sponsor gift. "Is it infected?" I ask, afraid of what the answer will be.

"I'm most positively sure of it. But hey! It's just an infection. You have Leon to thank for that," he shakes his head in disgust.

If I tell him I got a parachute from Leon, I know he will be infuriated. I better keep it to myself. "Maybe it was too expensive," I offer. "You know how the prices for the gifts get higher as more tributes die."

"Oh yeah," he sounds stunned. "That might be the reason why. Yikes. I feel really bad now."

We come to a stop in front of my backpack. I'm surprised Nicholas didn't take it on his retreat back to the Career pack. I scoop it up, dusting off bits of snow clinging to the fabric. After securing the straps around my shoulders, I ask cautiously, "Would you mind if I asked you something?"

"Go for it."

"How many people have you killed?" I look directly into his eyes, trying to make it clear I am asking a legitimate question.

He starts up back in the direction we came and I scurry to keep pace with him. I take a couple of long strides so that I am walking side-by-side with him.

"Well including Marina, four," he admits calmly. He extends his arm out to the right, forcing me to come to a stop. He points up at the sky, "We have to wait until the hovercraft takes her body away."

I watch as a crippled form gets pulled upwards into the aircraft above. After a moment, it vanishes up into the mid-day sky and the two of us continue our trek up the mountain.

"Four?" I ask after a while.

"During the bloodbath, I struck down a boy tribute. I don't know what district he was from. And then sometime in the earlier hours of the following morning, I killed the girl from Seven. A couple of hours later, I drowned Athena in the lake," he pauses before adding, "And of course there's Marina who I had just, well, killed right in front of you."

I do not say anything after he tells me this.

"Can I ask _you_ something?"

"Shoot," I wave my hand to indicate I want him to continue.

"How did you beat me? You know, back on the Fifth floor of the Training Center."

I raise my eyebrow at him, "In the chess game?" He nods. "Um it really wasn't that hard to be honest. You never changed your strategy. So when I asked if I could play, I had already knew I'd win." I shrug my shoulders.

"Smart girl," he mumbles.

xXx

For the rest of the day, Omar and I hike up the mountain. The higher we go, the fewer trees there are. Around sunset, we come to a stop and sit in the snow beneath our feet. My stomach had been growling the entire way. Omar looks exhausted. He closes his eyes before leaning back. I fold my legs and clutch my stomach to muffle the sounds from within. During our tiring journey up the mountain, we could not find anything to eat. Neither of us knows how to hunt, so getting meat is out of the question. I kept my eyes open for any edible looking plants. But no berries were in sight. Not even that nightlock bush. I am sure we could have munched on some leaves, but most of the vegetation is covered with layers of snow so I can't see if they are really okay to eat.

"What are we going to do?" I ask aloud.

He does not sit up to look at me, "About food and water? I have no idea."

"No," I shake my head, although he can't see me. "About food. We already have water."

"Well _you_ may have water. But I don't."

"But we do," I insist. "Look around you. Snow is basically water. Just in a different form."

He sits up abruptly, "Are you for real?"

I reach into my pack and bring out my water bottle for him to see. Some of the snow is melted, but there is still enough to show him what I am trying to say. I look up at his face to see his reaction. It looks like a cross between pleasant surprise and approval.

He unzips his pack and pulls out two bottles. He then starts shoveling snow into them. When he is finished, he screws on the lids and stows them away in his backpack. "So we both have 'water' now. How are we going to get food?"

As if on cue, a silver parachute lands on the ground between us. I instantly look up to see what Omar is thinking. But he seems fine. He picks up the parachute and unwraps the gift: a single loaf of bread. He stares at it, "I guess we got our food right here."

He breaks the bread in half before handing me a piece. I basically tear it out of his hands. I'm so hungry; my mouth waters at the sight. I bring it up to my nose. The smell is wonderful. It's not warm, so I'm guessing it didn't just come out of the oven. But, it's perfect either way.

The first bite is my largest. My stomach growls in anticipation, as if it is calling out to the bread to reach its pit. While I am chewing savagely, I check on Omar. He's doing the same. Yes. It's the two of us, eating like a pair of wild and untamed animals.

I finish my piece all too soon.

When Omar is done, he starts taking off his boots. "I'm going to guess that bread is cheaper than medicine."

I nod. At least he came to that conclusion on his own. I was trying to think of some sort of excuse for the arrival of the bread, but not the medicine. I scoop up the parachute and turn it over. There is no note attached to the fabric this time. I crumple it into a little ball before tossing it behind me. Then I see Omar's feet.

He looks up at me and laughs, for I am making a face.

"Why is it all swollen like that?" I ask.

Omar rubs at the skin, "I guess this is what happens when you leave your feet in water too long."

Avoiding the monstrosity of his feet, I cock my head, "What do you mean?"

"When I was fighting Athena, the two of us fell into a lake," he says quietly.

"And you never got dry," I remark. It's true to a certain extent. He looks a bit wet. I can't believe I didn't notice this before. I'd just thought it was the appearance of his clothes. It's waterproof. But I'm sure it won't do you any good if you dove into a freezing cold lake.

He nods, "I tossed my socks as soon as I knew they weren't helping my cause."

"Did you ever think about wrapping them up?"

He's puzzled, "How would I do that?"

"Tear a piece of your…" I start to unzip my jacket, but think better of it. If I show him I've been doing ripping up my shirt, he'll want to know why. And then I'd have to tell him about my knife wound. He'll ask about it, probably wondering why I don't show any signs of pain. Then I'd have to make up some excuse as to why it healed so fast. Of course that wouldn't be believable enough, so he'll come to the conclusion that I've received medicine. A couple of seconds later, I'll have a spear in my chest. "…shirt. Like your sleeves or something. And then wrap the cloth around your feet."

"That's actually a really good idea," he rolls up his sleeves.

I scoot closer to him, "Allow me." I start tearing a big piece of cloth from both sleeves of his turtleneck. When I am done, I move towards his swollen feet. I think using the medicine will help. But I can't exactly bring the tube out. So, I "accidentally" let one of the pieces of cloth fly out of my hands. The wind carries it a fair enough distance away. Omar gets up to retrieve it, so I reach around into my pack and bring out the medicine. I unscrew the lid quickly and scoop up a large amount of the stuff before shoving it back into my pack. I rub the medicine between my hands just as Omar returns with the other piece of cloth. I take it from him and try to get as much of the healing cream on the cloth as possible, clandestinely of course. Then, I start wrapping the cloth around his right foot. I repeat this process with the left foot before picking up some snow to wipe my hands. I'm sure this would appear rude. But he doesn't seem to mind. In fact, he looks amused. To him I'm just cleaning my hands after touching his swollen feet. In reality, I'm trying to get rid of the slippery feeling the medicine left me.

* * *

Omar Calhoun's POV

I shove my boots back on before thanking Linnet. She's very smart. Something I had only just realized. I'm sure I've known it all along, but after seeing her today, I'm not all that surprised she survived this long. She's crafty as well. She used snow as a substitute for water. Although technically, snow is water. And then she came up with the notion to wrap my feet in cloth. God, what else does she have up her sleeve?

She's staring at me, then her eyes grow sad, "How many people are left in the arena?"

I think I know where she is going with this. But I reply with, "Well, there's you and me. The tributes from One. Nicholas…" I furrow my brow. "Is that it?"

"I think there's the boy from District Six," she adds.

"That's right," I snap my fingers. "I haven't seen him this entire time. Well, aside from Day 1. What's his name again?"

"Titus," she answers. "And I don't think you'd want to see him."

"Why not?" I demand.

"Because he eats his victims."

"What?"

"He's a cannibal," she tells me. "I saw him. Twice."

"Did he see you?" I ask, an unsettling feeling washing over me.

"Only the second time. But he vowed to… get me the next time we'd meet," she stares off behind me for a while. Then, she takes on a lighter tone, trying to change the subject, "Do you really hate Aubrey?"

I'm taken aback. Her question was so out of the blue that I don't really know what to say. I try putting together words in my mouth that would count as a response. "No. Of course I don't. Why?"

She shrugs, "It just seems that way. You know, whenever she wanted to talk to you, you'd just ignore her." She fidgets with the laces on her boots. "How come you do that?"

"I don't hate her," I repeat. "Was I avoiding her? Most definitely. My reason is a little more complicated than that." She's watching me, almost seeming to expect me to continue. I sigh, "I…I used to like her."

She looks at me quizzically. "So what happened?"

"Back in the sixth grade we had sat next to each other. And after a while we became friends," I run my hands through my shaggy hair. "At that point, I knew she was…"

Linnet nods, "I gotcha."

We don't say anything after a while. And then, my fifteen year old district partner speaks up, "She loves you, you know."

I nod. I'd suspected this, but now that I'm being told the truth, I don't know what to think anymore. I smile at Linnet and she looks relieved. For what reason, I have no clue. But it's fine by me. Of course this is where I remember the cameras are on. And our little conversation was most likely broadcasted to the entire nation.

xXx

The Capitol seal appears in the night sky as the national anthem blares over the unseen speakers. The first tribute appears: it's Marina. After her, it's the boy from District Eleven. When his headshot vanishes, the night returns to normal. Linnet is asleep by now in her sleeping bag. I'd offered to take the first watch. I sit back up against a tree trunk with my spear in my hand. I'm so unbelievably tired, but I am persistent. I will not fall asleep.

Hours go by and nothing happens. It's very eerie sitting in the dark like this. There's nobody coming because I'd spot them almost immediately. An odd sensation stirs from within the pit of my chest. I feel like someone is watching me. I grind my teeth together and clutch the shaft of the spear tighter. I'll be ready for the attack.

A long time passes, but the feeling does not go away. I can sense something is waiting, watching. I can feel goose bumps on my arms. Whatever is out there is anticipating the moment I fall asleep. That will not happen. I don't know where to look, so I stare out in front of me. Some of the shadows are darker than the norm. I think I can see a large figure by the base of that tree over there. Or maybe right there, by those bushes.

More time passes. I am more convinced something is going to come out and kill me. It seems as if the whole world is holding its breath. Hell. I'm holding my breath. Something is going to come. Something is going to come. Something is going to come…

Linnet sits up and rubs her eyes. She looks at my face. I probably look like I've seen a ghost. She doesn't comment though. "My turn?" she asks sleepily.

I'm reluctant. I don't think I will be able to sleep with the feeling someone is watching me. But I nod before lying down. I don't go to sleep right away. Linnet crawls out of her sleeping bag and pulls out two little knives from her pack. She holds them in both of her hands.

I watch her for a long time. I'm still on guard no matter what she's doing. I hold my spear tightly, vowing to not let it go. The dark shadows seem to be moving. Someone is moving. I continue staring. My eyelids are starting to grow heavier by the second however. I don't think I will be able to keep my eyes open much longer. If I hear Linnet scream, it will be all my fault…

xXx

I wake up early the next morning only to find Linnet passed out on the ground. She didn't stay up to keep watch. I shake my head in dismay. At least she's still alive. I look around only to see the landscape around us virtually unchanged. It's about sunrise. I prop myself up and yawn. My spear is left in the snow a couple of inches away from my bed on the ground. Today, Linnet and I are going to have to find some food. Maybe I can try hunting. It's time to be a man and kill a damn bird or something. If that doesn't work, then we could always return to the Cornucopia to pick up the scraps leftover from the feast.

I pull out my water bottle from my pack and down whatever snow managed to melt. I just start shoveling more into the bottle when Linnet jolts awake. She jumps to her feet and swings her arms around in front of her. Part of her hair sticks to her face and I stifle a laugh.

Once she sees she is not in danger, she sits back down on her sleeping bag.

I sigh, "You fell asleep on guard duty."

"Oh," she bites her lip. "I'm sorry."

"Its fine," I say, waving off her apology. "Today, we are going to have to look for food. And I mean really look."

She nods, "That would make the most sense. I doubt we will be getting another gift any time soon."

We both stand up and pack up our things. After we are finished, we start back down the mountain. I tell Linnet to keep a sharp lookout for any edible looking plants. I, on the other hand, keep my eyes open for nearby animals.

Neither of us find anything. We get closer to the Cornucopia. We still don't find anything. I don't think Linnet is looking that hard. I hear her stomach complaining the entire way.

**Author's Notes:** Sorry for the lack of action. This is more of a filler chapter if anything really. I just needed to have the two of them build a stronger relationship through conversation. Next chapter to come though! Thanks for reading! :D


	15. Chapter Fifteen:We All Go a Little Mad

**Chapter Fifteen: We All Go a Little Mad...**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hunger Games. The ideas for this story are all from the imagination of Suzanne Collins.

Linnet Easton's POV

The golden horn of the Cornucopia shines between the trees. I hate the unnatural glow the snow emits when the sun rays hit it. The brightness makes looking directly at it agonizing. Beside me, Omar grunts in frustration as he spots the Careers. The three of them sit on the ground by the table, eating whatever they hadn't eaten from the feast the day before. I bet nobody but them even reached the table. So that "token of appreciation" from Claudius Templesmith was really a huge gift for the Careers. The remainder of their pack is something to raise your eyebrows at. Both tributes from District One are still alive. And so is the boy from Two. Usually, it'd be flipped. Both tributes from Two would be still intact while it was some whinny girl or boy, it really didn't matter, from One. But of course this year, that didn't happen.

Omar steps back and pulls me with him. "We can't get food from the Cornucopia," he whispers.

Yeah. I already kind of guessed that. "What should we do?" I ask him.

"Hunt for now," he tells me, waving his spear in front of him. "Unless you have a better idea."

"No, no. Hunting sounds good. But let's get out of here before they see us."

He nods and the two of us retreat back up the mountain. I stare down at the snow as we trek forward. _Omar's going to kill you. Kill him first. It'll get you food for sure. The audience will love it. Someone will want to sponsor you. You'll get food. It's all about food. You're hungry. And you want food. So kill Omar._

"No!"

Omar stares at me, "No? What's the matter?"

I shake my head before giving him a fake smile, "Nothing. I'm just really hungry that's all."

"We'll get food before the end of the day. I can promise you that," he says.

We continue forward. And my stomach continues to growl.

xXx

Omar somehow managed to kill a bird. There were a whole bunch of them perched up on a tree branch. I think they were watching us. But that's crazy. Birds are stupid. They can't really understand what's going on. So it wasn't really that hard for my district partner to spear one through the chest. It's as if they were begging to be killed. He tried for another one, but by then they all had flown away in a heap of feathers and the occasional poop.

He tries to start a fire. But alone I know he won't be able to do it. So, I help him despite his protest. I flash back to Day 1 of training. Telsa had helped me with the fire. I can remember every little movement she had done to get it started. With the memories brought to the surface, I can't help but feel nothing from her death. Sure we were to be in an alliance, but we rarely spoke to each other. The plan was to link up in the arena, but she didn't even make it out of the initial bloodbath. I lick my lips as Omar starts twisting the stick between his hands.

A little after mid-day, we have a fire started. Omar is on the ground, skinning the bird and gathering the feathers into a small pile. I stand a couple inches away, staring at them. Thinking… Thinking… '_The greatest new designs in plumage!_' I'm instantly mortified. Is this suppose to be symbolic or something? _A linnet is a type of bird…_

Omar plunges a stick through the middle of the bird so he can roast it over the fire. He slowly rotates it in the process. "Do you think anyone will see our fire?" he asks.

"Uh… I don't think so," my head is spinning. I can feel the smoke filling my lungs. I won't be able to breathe.

"Okay. Well, the bird should be done in a couple of minutes," he informs me.

I only nod. I think my lungs are collapsing. My throat feels as if it were contracting. I don't like fire. Fire will kill me. I will be burned alive. I can feel the flames licking me…

* * *

Omar Calhoun's POV

Linnet falls to the ground all of a sudden. I drop the bird in the snow and stand up abruptly. My eyes sweep the surrounding area. Someone is there. Someone is watching. Linnet hasn't died yet. The cannon has not sounded.

"Who are you? Show yourself!" I shout furiously.

I can hear someone. I can see them. I pick up my spear and march forward. "Come out coward!"

Something moves up ahead. I hear laughter. "Stop hiding!"

I see footprints in the snow. I laugh, "I can see you! Stop running and show yourself!"

I hear something. I whirl around. No one is there. "Why are you hiding?"

Someone is there. I can sense it. They've been always there. Somebody has been following us since last night. They've left us alone until now. And now they are running. A cannon goes off. Linnet is dead. "You show yourself you fucking asshole!"

I come to a stop in the middle of a clearing. I spread my arms out, "I'm here you motherfucker! I'm fucking right here!" I drop to my knees and put my head in my hands.

xXx

There's the familiar squish of snow underneath boots as someone moves towards me. By now, its sundown and I haven't eaten. But I could care less. I turn my body slowly only to see a boy. He looks familiar. I can't tell anymore. Where have I seen him? In… District Five? No… Somewhere else. I know I've seen him someplace before. Where? In… The Capitol… He's from the Capitol… No that doesn't make sense. Capitol citizens do not participate in the Hunger Games. So who is he? Is he real? I rock forward. He's so familiar… I know him… Where is he from? A district boy… He has that look… What district is he from? It's-it's the boy from… Six… Yes… He's from District Six. What did Linnet call him? A…

"So we meet again," he grins. Strangely enough, I can see his teeth. There oddly stained. With… blood…

"When?"

"At the Cornucopia of course. Remember six days ago. Think about it Five," he smirks, spinning the sword with his right hand.

It's already Day 6? In the 66th Hunger Games? "Oh yeah," I say numbly.

"What's wrong with you?" he raises his two eyebrows.

"I'm looking at the…" _Devil._

"The what Five?"

I shake my head limply, "It was you. You were there watching us. You killed Linnet."

He wrinkles his brow, "I didn't kill anyone."

"Yes-yes you did," I point at him. "She told me you… ate people."

He snorts, "Is that all I'm accredited for?"

"You are a cannibal," I spit at him before pushing myself up. I'm not going to be killed by this monster. I'm going to win regardless of what this boy does to me. Or did to Linnet. I will kill him. And I will kill the others. And I will be going home.

"Why are you labeling me so harshly? I did what I had to do to survive," he growls.

I know I'm getting him angry. "But you don't deny you ate those tributes."

"I do not. But calling me a cannibal makes me seem inhumane."

I scoff, "As if eating people is not inhumane already."

Suddenly, he lunges forward. His sword pierces me through the left thigh. I cry out in pain. That's where I had been stabbed by Athena. He yanks out his sword and swings again. I pick up my spear and block the blow. He just continues to smile all the way through. I take on my initial battle stance, but I'm slightly frightened. I haven't actually fought someone head on like this. All my kills happened when I had the upper hand. So, I'm at a disadvantage. I'm sure Titus had plenty of practice with hand-to-hand combat.

He lunges forward again and I side-step quickly. I take this opportunity to stab at him. Unfortunately, he anticipates this, so he dodges. As he does so, he swings his sword from behind and slashes me across the chest. I stumble backwards, clutching the cut with my free hand.

He steps closer to me. I thrust my spear forward in hopes of piercing his skin. Sadly, it does not. Titus raises his sword again and I kick him with my right leg. He is sent backwards a couple of inches. He looks annoyed now.

I try my luck in attacking again. I rush up to him with my spear raised. I plunge downwards but he blocks my spear. He kicks me in the chest and I trip and fall to the ground. He stalks over to me and without a second thought slashes my spear-holding arm off.

I cry out in pain as my dismembered arm bleeds out in the snow. I watch as he licks the blade of his sword, cleaning off my blood with his tongue. He smiles wickedly as he slashes down again. This time, he cuts off my other arm. I'm screaming now. This only seems to egg him on. His brings the tip of his sword to my chest. Then, he stabs down. But he doesn't stop there. He drags the blade through my chest, exposing my innards.

He drops his sword and kneels down in front of me. Red starts to cloud my vision. I can feel everything as he starts feasting on my flesh. I turn my head and see my arm. My hand is still wrapped around my spear. So much for winning. It's the last thing I ever see…

**Author's Notes:** Sorry for such a short chapter. Uhh… tell me what you think. I'd really like to know. This chapter was a little difficult to write. Just because of what happened. Next chapter to come. Thanks for reading as always…


	16. Chapter Sixteen: Left Alone

**Chapter Sixteen: Left Alone**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hunger Games. The ideas for this story are all from the imagination of Suzanne Collins.

The world around me is covered in snow. I push myself up slowly, my head pounding horribly. The sky is dark now. I can smell the faint scent of a snuffed out fire in the air. White powder sticks to my face as I check the area for life. What happened? And where's Omar?

The last thing I remember before passing out is flames reaching my body, burning me alive. Obviously that was not the case because my clothes are still intact and more importantly, not singed off. I shakily stand only to be met with vertigo. I stumble over to a tree to use as an object of stability. I wait for the dizziness to pass before recollecting my thoughts. I had blacked out after collapsing to the ground. I know for a fact that it had been sometime in the afternoon. Now, it's approximately twilight. Possibly nighttime. Which means I'd been unconscious for more than a couple of hours. I scan the surrounding landscape in hopes of finding my district partner. Where could an eighteen-year old boy wander off to?

"Omar?" I call.

There is no answer. I pull on the straps of my backpack nervously. I try again, "Omar where are you?" Again I am met with nothing but the sounds of the mountain. I bite my bottom lip. Maybe he went to relieve himself.

I lean back against the tree trunk for five minutes. I keep my eyelids peeled just in case he decides to return. He does not show up. I start to worry. What happened to him? Where did he go? Did he leave me? I shake my head. That wouldn't be possible. He wouldn't do that. But would he? _Of course he would. Who are you kidding Linnet? He doesn't want to stay with you. You're dragging him down. What did you expect? That he'd change his mind about winning? Hell no. Only one person can win the Hunger Games. One. It is better he's gone. If he stayed, it'd only be harder in the end._

"You're right. I'm sure he was planning on killing me anyway. You saw how he treated me back in the Capitol."

It's time to move on. I gather my hair up in a messy bun before starting off. As I surge forward, I reach back around and pull out my water bottle. Some more snow had melted from the previous day, so I gulp down must of what liquefied.

As I walk through the night, my stomach rumbles and grumbles with hunger. This is where I remember the bird. I'm sure Omar took it when he'd abandoned me. I'm going to have to find some other ways to get something eat.

I have no sense of direction. All I am doing is looking for something that'll look appropriate to sleep on. Or in. I travel around in what seems like a circle. I'm stumbling along, weary for sleep. When I had been unconscious, it only had seemed like I had been out for a minute. Or I had simply blinked.

Somehow I let fatigue overcome me and I fall into the snow. My head begins to spin once again. I have no desire to get up from the ground. I'm between two trees, but not quite shielded by anything or anyone. No amount of strength in my body will be enough to drag myself to a much safer spot. I don't even bother to bring out my sleeping bag. I just lie there. Allowing the snow to act as a cushion for my head and back, I do not try to get comfortable. This is the only position I want to be in. This is the only position I can be in right now. After this night's rest, I'm sure I'll have enough strength to continue.

I do not fall asleep right away. In fact, words of warning and doubt fill my mind. Most of them tell me to get up before somebody finds me. Before the Gamemakers do something to me. They're probably laughing at me. Everyone is laughing at me. I just know it. With Omar still left in the Games, I'm sure everyone in District Five, aside from my family, is rooting for his homecoming. I did receive the lower training score. How can anyone have faith in somebody who got a five? Although, it is quite fitting. I am from the fifth district. Maybe I'll end up in fifth place. There are still six of us left in the arena. The Games will come to a conclusion really soon. The lack of action today will probably cause the Gamemakers to stir up some horrible concoction for tomorrow.

Suddenly, the anthem is playing and I force myself to glance up at the sky. No one died. Once the music is over the seal will disappear and the night will return to normal. But that is not the case because somebody did die today. It was the boy from District Two, Nicholas. And after him… It's Omar. My eyes bug. I think they might actually pop out of their sockets. His picture lingers in the air for a couple of seconds before disappearing with the last of the anthem. Omar is dead. Is that why he wasn't there when I regained consciousness? What happened to him? How? How did he die? Why did he die? Did he die because of me? Did he die while watching me? Making sure I didn't get attacked? I sit up straight, ignoring the sound of my stomach growling with hunger. I put my head in my hands. I pull my knees to my chest and curl into a ball. Omar is dead. Omar is dead…

I can't let his death go in vain. If he had died protecting me, I must carry on. I must not give up. I must… I must win. I'm going to win. Yes. I will win. For Omar. I stand up with my legs shaking. I stagger over to a nearby tree trunk. I force myself to climb. If I fell asleep in the middle of the snow like that, I'm sure something would've mauled me alive. Or a tribute might have killed me.

As I jam my boots into footholds, I try to wrap my mind around the idea of winning. I have a twenty-five percent chance of coming home. Aside from me, there are three others in the arena. In this mountainous hell hole. District One is still alive. Both of the tributes are still holding on. Argus and Pearl. They are all that remains of the Career alliance. They will stay together, no doubt, until me and the other tribute is dead. And then, they'll battle it out. Chances are it'll be Argus who'll win. I can imagine the crowds cheering.

"No! What are you saying?"

Remember. Win for Omar.

Who is that other tribute? Oh. Titus. Titus is still alive. I shudder. The thought of him disgusts me utterly. I really hope Argus and Pearl find him and kill him. I don't want to come face to face with that… _cannibal_.

I don't think I'd really last in a battle against Argus. That boy, no, that _man _will tear me apart. Maybe Titus can kill him. Better yet, the both of them can kill each other. That would leave me with Pearl. But I don't think I can kill her either. I'm physically capable, but I don't think I have the mental strength to do it. With the news, the information she is my sister, I can't bring myself to… to murder her. It's almost like killing my sister, Amber, back in District Five. I can't imagine killing either of them. Actually now that I think about it, I can imagine it. It's a very unruly sight.

I reach my targeted branch. My arms and legs are trembling in pain. How did I become so weak? But was I ever strong? I pull myself forward so I am closer to the tree trunk and sit up. The leaves up here are really thick. They'll conceal me for sure. I try to arrange the leaves in front of me to use as a canopy, but all they end up doing is sticking to my gloves. Sap? I try to swap the leaves off with my other hand, but that only accomplishes getting some more of the sap stuck to the gloves. Removing my gloves with annoyance, I give up trying to conceal myself from view. I shove the gloves in my backpack. My hands are exposed now, and the cold air stabs my skin all over. I tuck my hands into the pockets of my jacket as I try to fall asleep. Inside my pockets, I rub my fingers against the piece of silver that is my ring. I play with it until I drift off into a deep sleep.

xXx

Dreams are weird. To my surprise, I didn't have any at all during the past weeks. Well I probably did. But for the ones that I remember, those do not exist. Except for tonight. I remember tonight's…

_I am on a fast-moving train. I'm walking down a corridor in hopes of finding something. I don't know what I'm looking for, but whatever it is I need it. It's bright out. The light seeps into the train from the windows as I continue walking. Suddenly I fall over. My hands don't even move to catch myself. I hit the ground with a thud. Someone pulls me up. It's Omar. He's grabbing me by my shirt collar. _

"_What are you doing?" he asks._

_I furrow my brow as I try to get down, "What are you talking about?"_

"_You. What are you doing?" he repeats._

"_I'm…" I am at a loss for words. What am I doing? The words come to me, "I'm going home."_

_He sets me down and stares at me with despair, "You are." It wasn't a rhetorical question. _

_I swallow slowly, "Yes. Yes I am." The reason forms in my head: I won. I won the Sixty-Sixth Hunger Games. _

"_You shouldn't have won," he says flatly._

_I narrow my eyes, "Is this because you think you should hav…"_

"_No," he interrupts. "But you shouldn't have won either."_

"_Why not?"_

"_Because you cheated."_

"_I did not cheat," I declare. How can you cheat in the Hunger Games? There's virtually no way possible for that to happen. The Gamemakers make sure of it. No cheaters. "Everyone wins fair and square."_

"_But you didn't. You were going to die," he tells me._

"_How?"_

_He smiles at me, "If I told you, then where would we be?"_

_The train car goes through a tunnel and the corridor fills with darkness…_

xXx

I wake up in annoyance, "Omar. You are stupid. No one can cheat in the Hunger Games."

_But somebody did. Try to remember Linnet. The boy from District Twelve, Haymitch Abernathy. _

"He's not a boy. He's a man. He's older than me."

_Regardless. He won because he cheated. You weren't born yet, but I know you've seen his Games. They play it frequently. How did he win, Linnet? How did he win?_

"He used the force field."

_That's right. And that's cheating. He didn't exactly kill that girl. She killed herself. She threw the ax and he just dodged. He knew the ax would come back. So he cheated._

"No he didn't. He used his brains. He was smart."

I need to get down from the tree. Whatever my dream meant, I may never know. I climb down from my branch a few inches before taking the long jump to the ground. I land in a massive pile of snow. After pushing myself up, I dust off the white powder with my hands and swing my backpack around. I fish inside until I find my water bottle and knives. I find my gloves also, but I do not wish to take them out. They are still sticky with sap. I take a swig of the ice water inside before stowing it away. I clutch the knives tightly in each of my hands. With three other people left in the arena, the Gamemakers will undoubtedly try to force us together to finish each other off.

I don't know how long I've gone without eating. But I have horrible hunger pains. The last thing I've eaten had been half of a loaf of bread. And that was anything but satisfying. I feel incredibly light-headed. But I'm sure once I get food into my system, I'll be fine. I just need to find some food.

For the rest of the day, I wander the mountains looking for food. My efforts are fruitless. I don't have the strength to even get frustrated. I feel like shit. I'm so tired. And I get dizzy too fast. I need something to eat.

I do not run into any tributes. Nothing happens today. No cannons go off. It's the quiet right before the storm. I can sense something big is going to come. Maybe tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe not at all. The rest of the tributes are probably like me: looking for food. Only I know they are not. Argus and Pearl have the food leftover from the feast. And Titus. Titus has the… "food" leftover from his last kill. Only, how long ago was that last kill? I can't remember. I don't want to remember. But I do. And all I can see is a boy lying in the blood-covered snow with his guts spilling out from his chest. There's electricity too. Who was that boy? I know his name. But I can't remember it at this moment.

Nightfall comes all too soon and I collapse on the ground. I curl myself into a little ball. I haven't seen anybody all day, so why should I expect to see anyone tonight? There's no anthem. Or maybe I missed it. I really don't know. I bury my head in my knees and try not to think about food.

Tomorrow will be big. I know it will. Something will come. I know it will. Food will come. That is a lie. Food will never come. I wonder how long it takes for someone to die of starvation.

**Author's Notes:** As you can see, Omar is dead and I can only do one POV from this point on. The Games are coming to a close. Next update to come. Thanks for reading. Remember to review and tell me what you think! :D


	17. Chapter Seventeen: Blood and Berries

**Chapter Seventeen: Blood and Berries**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hunger Games. The ideas for this story are all from the imagination of Suzanne Collins.

I do not get to wake up peacefully. Instead, the feeling of sharp little knives stabbing me in the stomach does. Instantly, immense pain washes over me. I double over and cry out. I am not being attacked by an outside force. Instead, it is my body telling me in need nutrients. I need something. Something to eat. I haven't eaten in so long… So long. How many days ago did I have that piece of bread?

A defeated whimper escapes from my throat as I lie in the snow, clutching my stomach. I am so passed the point of mild hunger that my stomach will no longer make a sound. I'm starving. And the world seems to be spinning.

I stare at the snow in front of me. I reach out and scoop some of it up. Then, I start shoving it into my mouth. It's nothing. Nothing…

I need to get up. I need to do something. Something. Anything…

I force myself to stand up, but I am not physically capable of extending up to my full height. I am hunched over. I cannot walk upright. The pain in my stomach prohibits me from doing so. I slowly inch forward, ignoring the fact I can be killed at any given moment. I don't have my backpack anymore. Or my knives. I think I left them on the ground back where I had crashed for the night. I don't feel like going back to get them. If I die, at least it will be quickly. All my hopes for winning are lost. I've given up, I really could care less. This pain is so unbearable that I don't think I will be able to hold on for any second longer…

The wind blows softly through the trees and I can't help but shiver, despite the layers and layers of clothes I have on. How long have I been wearing these clothes? I can imagine myself now. Even if I am not featured in the live feed, I'm sure my mentors can see me. My hair has been left in the messy bun from yesterday. I could really use a good hair combing right about now. And my breath? How about the length of time I've gone without a shower? My clothes are probably all nasty looking. But to me, they seem perfectly fine. Ha. I can barely tell the difference anymore. It's not even that noticeable.

I try out my laugh. It's been so long. Bad idea. The pain only increases and I have to stop to compose myself. It hurts so much. I don't want to feel this way anymore. I don't. I don't.

Tears form in the corners of my eyes and I start to cry. I drop to my knees as the water runs down from my tear ducts. I bring my hands to my face in an attempt to try to muffle the sobs, but to no prevail. Escaped cries of pain and exhaustion and frustration fill the air around me. My ears catch every little whimper, every little sob. I remove my hands and wipe some of the tears away with the back of my gloves.

I double over in a coughing fit. My mouth fills with warm saliva and I can't keep it back. The tears continue to roll and I adjust myself so that I am hunched over, my face looking down at the snow. Then, I start to puke.

The vomit is mostly water. It comes out in a mixture of red and white. I think the red might be my blood. I try throwing up again, but nothing comes. The sobs start again and I crawl away from my vomit.

Walking is now something I am incapable of. I have absolutely no strength left. If I do not…

I collapse in the snow by a bush. The snow. It is so soft… Snow. Snow. Snow is good. Snow will be the last thing I see. Snow will be the last thing I think of. Snow…

"I'm so sorry."

I lower my head and my eyelids start to close. They are so heavy. So heavy. Am I tired? I am. I am tired. I need to sleep. Yes. Sleep is good…

"Goodnight."

A cannon goes off. And it is very loud. It sounds so close. Someone must have died nearby. I sit up and look around. What happened? Who died? Who died? Who died?

I listen closely for the slight hum of the hovercraft. It is so quiet. The silence should allow my ears to catch the sound. But I cannot hear it. I scan the area for any signs of life. No one is around. This is where I see the bush. The bush I am near is a berry bush. But not just any berry bush. No. It's a nightlock bush. I wouldn't be surprised if it were the very same nightlock bush I had seen after I had killed that boy. Who was he? What district was he from? I know it, but I can't seem to remember anymore. I can't remember anything anymore. His name. What was his name? I need to remember. I need to know. "What was his name?"

"Come on. You know it. What was his name?"

_Does it really matter? He's dead. And you killed him. But at least you did something. All you do now is sleep and eat... Oh wait. You don't have anything to eat anymore. _

"Shut up! Shut up! Stop it! Just stop talking to me! Just stop it!"

The voice in my head does not return. I turn my attention back to the berries in front of me. It's food. But I had sworn I would never eat them. Do I really want to end my life? I don't think I would be able to do it. As if speaking to me, the pain in my stomach increases ten-fold and I cry out. Should I do it? Commit suicide? Should I? The pain would end. I won't have to suffer any longer. I should do it. I should eat the berries. It will end. It will all end…

I stand up, my legs wobbling. They threaten to lose balance at any moment. And then I would fall. But still, I persist on standing up to do it. I reach out for the berries and pluck a handful off of the bush. The circular fruit rolls around in my hands. They look so much like blueberries. They are. They are blueberries. I'm not going to eat nightlock. I'm going to eat blueberries. That's it. I'm just eating blueberries.

I start to bring the berries to my lips. I open my mouth. My hands, my arms, my legs, they are shaking like a leaf. I don't know why. I am only eating blueberries…

A shrill, blood-curling scream causes me to drop the nightlock to the ground. My eyes dart around, searching for the screamer. It is high-pitched. Which means it can only belong to one tribute…

Before I even see her, her name leaves my lips, "Pearl! Pearl where are you?"

I hear the scream behind me. I spin around and see my sister crashing throw some nearby bushes a good twenty feet away from me. She looks frazzled and out of breath, like something has been pursuing her.

She stumbles over the bush and lands with her hands outstretched in the snow. She rises and I can see the tears in her eyes. She sounds alarmed, "Who are you? How do you know my name?"

That's right. She doesn't know who I am. Or at least who I really am. I'm sure all of Panem is as confused as she is. And why wouldn't they be? As far as I know, only three other people actually understand why I am calling out her name.

"I…" What should I tell her? That I am her sister? She wouldn't believe me. And why should she? All I am to her is another tribute in her way to victory.

She stares at me with her eyebrows raised. The fourteen year old folds her arms over her chest. She opens her mouth to speak, but the words never get to come out.

Her head rolls off of her shoulders and into the snow beneath her feet. Immediately, blood starts to run out of the open wound. Her body falls down a couple of seconds later. I stare, wide-eyed, mouth agape at my dead sister. The cannon goes off and I cringe.

A boy stands in the last spot Pearl Vuitton had breathed her last breath. And he wields a sharp and very much bloody sword. He smiles deviously at me, "I told you we would meet again."

I shriek and turn on my heel, crushing the berries beneath my feet. I begin to run. My hunger does not offer me any kind of help, but I try my best to ignore it. But I can't. The needles are stabbing me again. I stumble forward, doing whatever I can to ensure I do not get eaten alive by this cannibal.

He is somewhere behind me. I can hear his footsteps. He too is running. And he is laughing, as if this where some great game of tag. I cannot scream. I have no energy to scream. My stomach feels as if it were eating itself. It probably is. I want to stop. But I can't. I can't let myself be killed by this monster.

"Come on, Five! Stop running. You are only making it harder on yourself!" Titus calls from behind me.

Tears run down my face again. I bite my bottom lip. I don't want to respond. I barely have enough energy to run, much less respond to his taunts.

Somehow, I manage to trip. I don't think I've been paying attention to where I've been running. I scramble forward in the snow. That's where I see the body. I'm surprised they haven't taken it away yet. But there it is. Lying in the snow. Guts exposed. Innards dug out. The body of Argus. His eyes are still wide open. But why is he still here?

I get to my feet quickly. And then I see the blood. I've landed in his blood. It's all over my clothes. I stare at him for half a second before taking off again. Titus is still after me. I try to conceal my disgust. I'm covered in a dead tribute's blood. I start to become delirious. I think… I think they won't take away any of the bodies yet. That's right. They won't take any of the bodies away because they know it will end. This is the finale. I am the finale. The Gamemakers are awaiting the moment I finally drop dead to pick up the rest of the bodies. I am sure of it. I need…

I don't have… I can't…

I'm going… My vision… I can't see anymore.

The world has turned. It's upside down. The world is spinning. The snow… it's red. Everything is red. Whiteness is replaced with blood. I lift my hands in front of my eyes. It's blurry. Everything is blurry. Everything is red. I can't see…

The sound of footsteps is no longer there. I can't hear my own footsteps. I can't hear anything… I can no longer hear. I can feel the blood filling my ears…

Sweat drips… It runs down my face. Down my neck. Down my back…

I start to sway. The pain is too much to handle. I can't go on. I don't… I can't move…

The stabbing is too much. I fall to the ground. This is it… I…

I start to roll. I can't see what's happening. I can feel everything though. The horrible pain in my stomach especially. The pain. Too much pain. I can't deal with the pain. I want to…

I am vaguely aware that I am rolling down a hill. I think I must be tumbling down the side of the mountain. Will I stop? I can't tell.

I feel every scratch. Every bump. Every cut. I think I am bleeding. I see blood on my clothes. Why am I covered in blood? Did Titus stab me? Where is he? I can't see him. I can't see anything…

I come to a stop in a pile of snow. I can barely make out the sound of rumbling. Something or someone is roaring in the distance. I drag myself forward. I need to get away. Titus is behind me.

Although my vision is clouded, I can see a large curved shape of something shiny up ahead. Am I at the Cornucopia? I pull myself forward. Inch by inch. I have to…

The rumbling increases. What's happening? I don't want to turn around. I can't turn around. I need to get away…

I feel something at my feet. It's Titus. He's come to kill me, to eat me alive. I continue to drag my body across the snow. I'll…

The golden horn is in front of me. A couple of more yards. Just a couple… And then… And then what? What will I do? I can't… I can't bear the pain any longer. I can feel my life slipping away…

Finally, I collapse, face forward, in the snow. I close my eyes. The end has come. I try to hold in my relief. No more pain. No more hunger. I think I am finally at peace…

A smile forms on my lips as I hear a cannon sound in the distance…


	18. Chapter Eighteen: Welcome Back

**Chapter Eighteen: Welcome Back**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Hunger Games. The ideas for this story are all from the imagination of Suzanne Collins.

"_Ladies and gentlemen, I know present you Linnet Easton, the victor of the Sixty-Sixth Annual Hunger Games!"_

I jolt awake, gasping for air. Tears are streaming down my face and I can't move. I struggle under the restraints as my chest heaves in and out. My intake of breath is too rapid, too quick. I am wearing a thin sheet, but other than that, I am naked. I scan the room quickly. It is completely empty, aside from the bed I am lying on. Tubes stick out of both of my arms. They connect to something in the wall because I cannot see the machine it should be hooked up to. I am belted to the bed, as if it were anticipated I would try to escape. I cannot see anything but white. I think that I am dead, but that would not make any sense. Clearly I am alive. So where am I?

There are absolutely no doors in the room. Just then, a woman in a white coat strides inside from an opening in the wall. She approaches my bed in less than five steps and pushes me back down. The wall opens again and two men dressed similar to her enter. One stands complaisantly by her side while the other stands on the other side of my bed. He is holding a large syringe.

Instantly, I start to react in a rabid manner. I scream and try to flail around as best I can, despite the restraints. He looks to the woman, for she is clearly in charge. She just nods and he turns his attention back to me. He purses his lips together tightly and starts bringing the syringe to my arm. I can't use my hands to shield myself, so I start to scream louder. The woman grabs my shoulders and holds me down. I still persist in resisting. She tells me it will be easier if I didn't fight back, but I ignore her. I continue to struggle for one second longer. And then, I feel the needle jab me in the arm and I go limp.

xXx

The next time I awake, everything is silent. I find that I am no longer belted to the bed and there are no tubes sticking out of my arms. I sit up slowly, carefully. I feel slightly ill. My head spins from lying down for God knows how long. Somehow, I manage to get to my feet. I grip the edge of the bed as I wait for the dizziness to pass. The thin sheet flutters as I stand up straight. I run a delicate hand through my hair. With my other, I investigate the state my body is in. My shoulder wound, although technically healed in the arena, is gone. I assumed a scar would have been present, but then again, this is the Capitol. And they have the technology for those kinds of things. The other small and insignificant scars I had collected over my lifetime are gone as well. Everything is new. It is like I had just been born; I have absolutely no flaws on my freshly made skin.

I spot the clothes I am to wear for the reunion with my team at the foot of my bed. It is the same exact outfit I had worn going into the arena, except it is cleaner and intact. The shirt is sewn back together. I smile at this. The Gamemakers make everything seem like the victor just returned from their triumphant win in the arena. Even though all of Panem knows the victor had been in intensive care for at least a week. That's why there is always a lag. During that time, the victor's home district prepares for their return by organizing an extravagant celebration.

Grabbing the thermals, I slid the black cloth on slowly. After, I pull up the knee high wool socks. The rest of the outfit goes on after in its consecutive order. I do not know why, but something is different about my body. Before I had entered the arena, the clothes clung to my body perfectly. Now, it hangs loosely. And then, I realize I've lost weight. Too much weight. I am skinnier than before I came to the Capitol. My rib cage is visible, especially when I lift up my arms. My elbows are so very pointy and the joints in my legs stick out awkwardly. I put on my gloves after tying my hair up in a simple ponytail. I adjust the jacket's hood neatly before making my way over to the wall. It slides open, revealing a long sterile-smelling hallway. I look around; this is the moment where the victor is suppose to see their team. The moment where they are to take off in a run or a leap into a favored mentor or stylist's arms.

"Linnet, honey, we are over here."

I turn in the direction of the voice. Down the hallway where the corridor leads into a larger room, is my team. Saffron and Leon are standing there. And so are Tremaine and Rigel. I am so relieved to see them. I take off running, but the thought of human contact fills my eyes with tears. It has been so long since I had interacted with another person. I drop to my knees and let the water rush down my face before covering my eyes with my hands.

I hear their footsteps. Their anxious, concerned, worried footsteps. I feel one of them wrap their arms around me. They pry my hands off of my face and force me to look at them. It's Saffron. She too has tears in her eyes, but at least she has more control over them.

"It's okay. It's over now. The Games are over," she reassures me.

Leon kneels down besides her. "How are you feeling?" he asks me.

"I-I…" I begin. "I'm doing better." This is actually very true. In the arena, I was dying of starvation. Now, I feel stronger. I don't think I would've lasted a day longer. But I'm so confused. "What happened to Titus?"

Leon shakes his head and Saffron avoids my gaze. I get the message: this is not the time.

Rigel is knelt beside me. "Here, let me help you up," he says gently.

I nod and allow him to pull me up off of the ground. Leon and Saffron stand also. I wrap my arms around my green-skinned stylist. No matter how grotesque he looks, he is still considered as my friend. Tremaine Goldstein walks over to me and holds out her arms when I finally release Rigel from my embrace. I sheepishly accept her offer and we hug. My escort pats my back as if she were proud of me.

When we finally separate, Rigel grabs my hand carefully and leads me towards the elevators. I now need to be prepared for my first live appearance since the Games. As the elevator rises, I stand in silence. We pass the lobby of the Training Center and the first four floors. The first four floors that belonged to eight tributes who are now dead. When the doors open, revealing my floor, the two of us walk inside. Our footsteps echo through the apartment. Rigel steers me into the direction of the dining room. What waits for me is neither a pleasant surprise nor a dreadful disclosure. It is my prep team. They are seated at the table, broad smiles on their faces. I realize now I never really learned their names. How impolite I must be. But what am I to do know? Ask them in the uttermost audacious way?

Rigel tells me, "Go ahead and eat. I'm sure you're starving."

I resist the urge to slap him across the face. Instead, I show him the fakest smile I can conjure up and sit down beside the woman with the long red hair. She looks like the happiest person in the world.

She takes the liberty in serving me. As she dishes out the pork, the woman with the tight yellow curls beams, "I am so glad you came back. You were absolutely wonderful out there."

The woman with the hot pink skin adds, "Oh dear. I was in tears when that girl from Four nearly killed you." She turns towards the others and chuckles, "My husband, oh you will laugh at this, he broke the television."

"Are you being serious? He broke it?" the woman with the yellow curls squeaks.

The two of them break off into their own conversation. Rigel is nowhere to be seen. I think he must have left to prepare my dress or something. By now, the red-haired woman is done serving me. On my plate lie two slices of mouth-watering pork, one roll of sweet bread, two spoonfuls of steamed baby carrots, and a pile of mashed potatoes. I dig in without another thought.

In less than five minutes, I finish my lunch, despite the appalled looks from my prep team. Having food in my stomach is very pleasing. I don't care if I seem like a complete slob, I went days without eating. I deserve this moment.

After, I am lead back to my room to be prepared. The room is cold and dark and lifeless before the lights are turned on. When it is illuminated, the space still remains cold. It does not seem to be mine. I cannot picture myself ever sleeping here. And yet, they tell me this is my room. But that is entirely false. This _was_ my room. No longer does it belong to me.

The next few hours go by in a blur. I lose all means of functioning. I allow my prep team to move me around. I am like their life-sized doll. They shower me because when they push me into the bathroom, I just stand there, unable to move. They have to slip the robe on for me before dragging me to their little chair. As they flock around me, discussing what needs to be done, I stare ahead. But I am no longer in the room. I've ventured far beyond the walls of the Training Center. I am now back in the mountains…

xXx

"Birdie dear, did you hear me?"

I blink as I come out of my vegetation state. The woman with the red hair is in front of me. The lights in the room have changed. I did not exactly pass out, but I don't think I was all that conscious either.

Nodding slowly, I realize now that it is nighttime. The dark sky is clearly visible from the windows, for their curtains are drawn back. I think the stars are out, but I can't really tell.

"Then stand up!" the red-haired woman orders me.

I hurriedly oblige. Rigel is standing near the door, a black bag in his hand. He unzips it and pulls out my dress. The first thing I look at are the feathers.

The red-haired woman is hopping, "Oh I told you that I would get you a Trajan Carduelis dress, Birdie!"

Rigel nods, "Yes. She did, but I didn't get it until today. Trajan's people declined our order at first. And that was because… well, he didn't want to waste a beautiful dress on someone who'd…most likely…die."

I arc my brow. How very rude. But then again, if the roles were reversed, I'd do the same thing.

Rigel continues, "But, once he saw that you had won the Games, he'd decided to have a dress custom made. Just for you."

And the result is in front of me. It is a light blue, floor-length gown. Thin straps hold the dress in place and the neckline is rounded; it plunges down just above my breasts. The skirt is full and at the bottom of the gown are the feathers. There are at least a million little feathers and they seem to be from a dove. They collect around the hem in a fur-lined fashion. Except, it is lined with feathers instead of fur.

Rigel approaches nearer and helps me into the dress. The woman with the tight yellow curls helps me into the glossy white heels. Then, my stylist leads me to the mirror. I still feel like a life-sized doll, even more so with this ensemble. My light brown hair is braided down my back. I notice my white ribbon has made another appearance. It secures the braid together this time. My face is covered in layers of foundation. But my facial features are sharp and defined. I wear black eyeliner and a shimmery light blue eye shadow. I have a rosy blush added to my cheeks and my lips are painted a dark red.

Soon, it is time to go. Rigel leads me to the elevators and we descend down to the lobby. It is completely empty, aside from us and the Peacekeepers who guard the doors. The public is not allowed to see the victor until they are presented in front of everyone on that stage with Caesar Flickerman. We arrive at my starting point- a metal plate designed to resemble the one that lifted me into the arena. Rigel wishes me good luck before disappearing to stand by for his cue.

I stand there, listening to the crowd. They seem anxious. They want to see me. They want to see their victor. I kind of want to see myself too. This presentation is only suppose to let the public see what became of the victor. There are no questions asked and barely any words are spoken between Caesar and the victor. It is also suppose to show the victor what happened to the other tributes in a three hour long recap of the Games. It starts from the reapings and ends with the victor being lifted out of the arena.

The anthem starts echoing off of the speakers. The anthem- the thing I've heard and dreaded during my time in the arena. I hear the crowd's cheers grow louder when Caesar Flickerman is announced. He cracks a few jokes before introducing my team. My prep team is up first. Then after, is Tremaine. Next, Rigel. He must be so proud. And finally, both of my mentors, Leon and Saffron.

Eventually, the cheers die down and I start to rise. Instantly, I am nervous. I'm light-headed and queasy. But I must stay strong, for the sake of everyone. As soon as I appear, the audience's cheers are deafening. I look out towards the crowd and give a good-natured smile. Caesar is up on his feet. He motions for me to come forward, to come sit down. I keep the smile on my face. Undoubtedly, plastered on. It must seem fake, because my cheeks are starting to twitch. But knowing these ignorant fools, I could just look extremely happy. I sit politely in the grand ornate chair. It resembles a throne in a way. Although, I am sure that was the Gamemakers' intention.

Caesar gushes, "Wow. What an amazing dress." He turns towards the audience, "Is it not?"

The audience shouts back some kind of reply. Most of it is mixed together with other answers to his question. I cannot decipher anything they are saying. Their accents do not help my cause. But by the smiles on their faces, I can tell it was something along the lines of approval.

"Thank you," I say.

"Is this the dress you had talked about during your interview with me?" he asks, clearly interested.

"Why Caesar, I didn't think you would've remembered me," I admit with a chuckle.

"Who could ever forget such a beautiful little face?"

I grin, "You are just so kind. But to answer your question, no, this is not the dress I had been talking about. This one was custom made just for me."

"Really? Then like I said before, absolutely gorgeous," he then nods towards somebody up above. "Now. Let us get started."

The lights dim as the Capitol seal appears on the screen. I sit back in my chair and cross my ankles as the seal disappears and we are taken to the Square of District One. I watch as Pearl is called to the stage by the strange escort. No one volunteers for her and then the boy is called. He is skinny and scrawny and weak. It is no real surprise when Argus steps up to volunteer. The crowd seems pleased by his bold move. One look at him and you can tell he will go far, win even. Immediately, the connection happens in my mind. With the look of the citizens of District One, and the smug smile Argus seems to have, and the distress in Pearl's face, I can see why no one volunteered for her. Somehow, it was already established that Argus was going to volunteer. And I don't think anyone in their right mind would want to go up against him. So whoever the girl volunteer was supposed to be chickened out.

The rest of the reapings go by, and I hear the audience go quiet when I am called up. I want to cover my face with my hands desperately. The girl who approaches the stage in tears is not me. Many people may think that it is like you are looking into a mirror when seeing yourself on television, but this is not the case. At least not for me. I have a really hard time believing the creature is me. But I know in the back of my mind I am wrong.

The next hour focuses on the pre-Games events in the Capitol. The camera spreads out the focus evenly, but whoever went back to edit the footage made it linger a bit longer on me. I get to see how ridiculous my chariot costume was. And the hopeless feeling my training score gave me. Then there is my interview with Caesar, I actually don't look that bad.

Finally, it is time for the Games. There was a camera in my launch pad because it follows me up the tube and into the arena. An aerial shot shows the entire playing field. And I get to see the frozen lake Omar had been talking about. When the gong goes off, the cameras do not focus on any tributes in particular. It goes around and shows us each individual kill. I get to see my fight with that girl from Twelve, Onyx, all over again. I seem like an all out bitch when I punch her to the ground. The camera makes a point in zooming in on my ring. My ring. I glance down at my fingers, but the circular piece of silver is no longer there. They must have taken it away when I had been in intensive care. When on-screen Linnet runs away, I get to see what becomes of Onyx. She is not dead. In fact, she looks very much alive. She gets to her feet, only to be knocked back down by the pair from District Two. Nicholas and Athena stare down at her with arched eyebrows. Then, by some unspoken agreement, Athena goes in for the kill.

After, things go into overdrive. I see Omar kill the boy from Eight while running through the Cornucopia. And then, sometime in the earlier parts of the morning, he kills the girl from Seven. The camera alternates between action shots and shots of me, since of course, I did win. I get to see my fight with Baem again. The audience murmurs in approval when I stab him in the heart repeatedly. When on-screen Linnet eventually stumbles away, Titus appears from behind some bush. I learn he had been watching the entire time. Just as he goes to eat Baem, the shot goes to Athena and Pike, the boy from Four. I furrow my brow, why did they cut away? I mean I'm not complaining, but usually the Capitol likes to linger when it comes to deaths. I look out at the audience. Some of them are shifting uncomfortably in their seats.

xXx

I do zone out because most of the screening is absolutely boring, but I do take note of a few things. Athena is drowned in the lake. I receive the medicine and the note, but the camera does not have a good view of what it actually says. A winged beast is released into the arena and it eats a tribute's face off. Pike is killed by Titus. The sound the audience makes mirrors exactly what I am feeling when I see Titus eat the boy's innards. About a minute after Pike's cannon goes off, Titus is shocked with a charge of electricity from a hovercraft up above. The feast is announced and I see myself get chased off by Marina and Nicholas. Then, there is Omar. My hero. My savior. He spears Marina through the chest and from there we link together. I take note of the desperation on my face when I eat the bread. Apparently, when Omar and I had been gone up to the mountains, Titus had followed us. I see myself pass out at the fire and Omar takes off because he thinks somebody must have killed me. He is then killed by Titus. And it is rather gruesome. Both of Omar's arms are separated from his body and I feel like throwing up. A couple of hours later, Nicholas is killed by the same winged beast from earlier.

The next few days are rather calm. But, the cameras do seem to make a point of recording all of my conversation. I try to keep my composure as I am displayed as a lunatic. I look mad, crazy, insane. I'm talking to myself and the confusion in the audience is clear as day. But I can also hear their concern. It is revealed that I haven't eaten in days. Maybe they think hunger has changed me; caused me to become delirious. That's what I want to know myself.

On the morning of Day 8, the camera shows Argus and Pearl hunting for me and Titus. Although, I'm sure it is Argus who planned on doing the killing if they found either of us. They run into Titus first. Well, technically, he runs into them, with his sword. He stabs Argus through the chest from behind. Pearl freaks out and runs away, screaming and wailing. As Titus starts to eat Argus's body, the shot switches to me. I am by the berry bush. The audience seems to take one giant collective gasp of air; it is as if they were holding their breath. Then, Pearl stumbles out of the bushes and I call her name. I don't have to look over to the audience to know that they are confused by this.

I clench my teeth together as the camera follows Titus. He is right behind my sister, and then, with one clean slice, he cuts her head off. I grip the edge of the chair to keep myself steady. I'm light-headed all of a sudden, but I need to see this. I need to see what happens to Titus.

On-screen Linnet starts to take off in a weak-looking run, with Titus quickly pursuing from behind. He taunts me, but I refuse to look back. Tears run down my face and then I stumble upon Argus's body. I slip in his blood and it covers much of my clothes. I start to run again, but it looks like I am intoxicated. I'm swaying back and forth and my eyes look glossed-over. It is as if I am blind. I start to tumble down the mountain after I trip over my own feet. Titus stands in the area I had last stood and smiles triumphantly. Then, the avalanche is released. Rocks roll and snow is scattered. A few trees are uprooted in the massive landslide. One large rock manages to pin Titus to the ground. The snow blocks the cameras from seeing what actually happens next, so the footage cuts to me. I'm laying face forward in the snow by the Cornucopia. It looks like I'm dead, but then Titus's cannon goes off and the hovercraft arrives. As they pull me out of the arena, my eyes are closed and a smile is left on my lips. Then, the lights turn on and the screen goes black.


End file.
